


Snippets Of Life

by prosfan



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 41,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosfan/pseuds/prosfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of unconnected one shots. A mixture  of humorous, angsty, sad and hurt/comfort fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> Any specific warnings will be put at the beginning of the relevant chapters. These have also been posted to ff.net. I will add to it as time and inspiration permits, once I have finished posting up the ones that are already completed.

The man grins and launches himself at the two policemen. They've been stuck in this basemment for four hours now and they are both stiff, tired and hungry. James Hathaway looks over at his boss, who nods and they both stand their ground. Backed up against the wall, the suspects panics and pulls a baseball bat out of nowhere. James and Lewis back of warily, exchanging looks with each other. It is during one of these looks that the man lunges, grabbing the inspector and smiling infuriatingly at the young sergeant.

“You back off now son. Over that side of the cell. And sit down, otherwise I'll club him.” Seething, James retreats to where be has been told. The man grins evilly. “Good boy. Although, you know I might just do it anyway” He brings the baseball bat down on Lewis' unprotected head, it glances off and Lewis crumples to the floor.

“Bastard.” James spat as he got up.

“You want some of the same son?” James just growls as he leaps at the man, he punches him in the face and the scuffle continues. Eventually the attacker realises that this young cop's anger is keeping him going and sooner or later the tall man is gong to win. He deals James a stunning blow that sends him sprawling to the floor. He leaves the room immediately and doesn't see the younger man crawl over to his boss. He's misread this situation. He took the quiet tones and sarcastic wit of James to be dislike of his boss. He can't conceive that the man may in fact be displaying fierce loyalty.

“Sir?” Nothing. James glares at the door and sits down to wait for his boss to wake up. His chest is heaving with exertion. His face hurts a little but the pain brings immense satisfaction, he knows that he gave as good as he got. He gently feels the back of Lewis' head. There is a little bit of blood there, but it doesn't seem too serious. He sits there for another half an hour, and dozes off

 

******************************************

 

An hour later, he is awakened by pressure on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he smiles as he sees his inspector sat beside him.

“How're you feeling sir?”

“Been better James.” He winces but it is apparent to James that his boss is in no immediate danger. It is silent for a time and then Lewis speaks.

“James, what happened to your knuckles?” James looks confused and glances down.

“Oh. Yeah that. Er, I, that is me and our captor had a little disagreement sir.”

“Oh? You kids should learn to play nice. What was this little disagreement about then?” Hathaway had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed.

“Actually sir, I didn't like the way he tried to smash your head in.” Lewis saw it now. Those weren't defence wounds like he had first thought. He saw them for what they were. Grazes on the knuckles cause by beating a person in anger. He had a pretty good idea how his sergeant had reacted to him being smashed over the head. He felt a small swell of pride that his sergeant cared that deeply for him, that the normally quiet man would react in so aggressive a way for him. He also had another thought. One he has voiced before.

“James, I must admit, sometimes I'm bloody glad you're on our side.” James hears his veiled thank you and just grins.

 


	2. One Miserable Day

Robbie Lewis groaned as he got out the car. It was wet, it was cold and it was Monday morning. Early Monday morning. Obscenely early, six am was not the time that a 60 year old man should have to wake up. None of these things had a positive effect on his mood. As he looked up, he realised that the last possible thing to make his day worse was coming towards him. It wasn't that he and his sergeant didn't get on. It wasn't that, they got on very well except when Hathaway's personal motives and secrets messed up a case. And they'd sorted that out now anyway. No, the problem today, was that his sergeant looked unbelievably cheerful. And when James Hathaway was cheerful, it invariably meant he was going to be annoying.

"Good morning sir." The light, airy tone was already grating on Lewis' nerves.

"Is it? It's a freezing, damp Monday morning and we've got a body. What's so bloody good about it James?" Hathaway smirked in that way the Lewis just knew, meant he was going to come out with some sarky comment. "Don't say a word. Just don't." If James wasn't the sort of guy he was, he'd have just kept going. But he wasn't that sort of bloke. He knew when he was pushing it and when that pushing it would be tolerated by the older man. Today wasn't one of those days. He ducked his head under a branch as they walked towards the site of the crime. Lewis shuddered involuntarily, Wytham Woods always gave him the shivers. Well being dragged in there and made to dig your own grave was bound to leave some ill feeling about a place wasn't it? He was aware that James was actually being quiet and turned to survey the man.

"Well, what have we got then?"

"Dog walker found a skeleton. Reported it in and since Grainger is on that murder case in the vicarage, it got given to us. Hobson's on her way" Lewis smiled. Laura Hobson was a good friend and well, she weren't bad looking either.

They stood by the scene, and saw what looked like a snapped leg bone sticking out of the soil. James was looking very pensive and it worried the old inspector some what. He knew what the younger man was thinking about. The Zelinsky case. James had been the one to find her, the 10 year old that Zelinsky had murdered and he hadn't taken it well. Looking at the size of this bone it looked like he may well be having to watch his sergeant a lot more closely this case. It started to drizzle. Then shower. Then bucket down. Both detectives were wet through and even James' exuberant expression had disappeared, to be replaced with sour discontentment.

At last, Hobson's car turned up and she climbed out, already suited in the customary blue jumpsuit that forensic pathologists were supposed to wear. Eyeing them both, she decided that today was not the day to be making jokes. James excused himself and went to meet a constable carrying styrofoam cups of cardboard-like coffee. Once he'd gone, Laura turned to Lewis.

"What's eating him? Not our usual bundle of joy today is he?"

"That Laura, is because, like me, he's been stuck in a rainy forest for two hours." As she assumed an affronted expression he hurriedly continued. "That and we think it's a young body. Well he's not even fully over Zelinsky yet is he?" She nodded sympathetically.

"Ah. Best keep him away from this then."

"No good. He'll just get annoyed. Doesn't like anyone trying to help him out does he?" They were both quiet as Hathaway returned balancing 3 cups of the meant-to-be coffee in the crook of his arm. Hobson shook her head.

"None for me until I've examined this body." She looked pointedly at Lewis. "No need for you two yet. I'll tell you when I know something." Lewis nodded, no need to make James watch if they were indeed going to find a young victim.

After much grumbling by the two police men about tine wasting and the absolute failure of British weather, Dr Hobson emerged from the trees.

"Want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Good news" James and Lewis said simultaneously

"The good news is that we're not dealing with a child here" James visibly relaxed.

"And the bad news?" He asked in trepidation. Laura looked from one to the other.

"You won't kill me?" They both assured her that they wouldn't.

"...It's a dog."

"A DOG?!?!" James exclaimed. Lewis looked at her in disbelief.

"You mean, we've been stood out here since half six...?" Hathaway saw the warning signs that Lewis was about to explode in anger. He grabbed his arm and started to drag him back to the car, tossing a 'Thank you doctor' over his shoulder to Laura. Who, for her part, was doing her best not to laugh. As he got into the car he saw Lewis' reddening face and held up his hand to silence any violent out burst.

"I think you could do with a pint sir."

"Its half 8 in the morning sergeant. No where will be open. "

"Ah sir don't worry about that. I happen to have a very well stocked fridge" Smirking at the almost pleading look on Robbie's face, he quickly drove off in the direction of home.

 


	3. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little idea about what might have happened at the end of "The Great And The Good"

 

“ _Sir?”_

“ _Just taking a breather”_

“ _Any luck?”_

“ _I know what you're thinking. But you're wrong. He left something. He left something for me to find or else...Why send me that letter?”_

“ _Sir...Let it go. You've been through every shred of paper, every word, every file, every photo”_

“ _Then we, keep looking!”_

“ _No! I'm not going to stand by an watch you do this to yourself. You know I'm not. There is nothing here about your wife! Let it go!”_

“ _How can I? Its in my head now.”_

 

In that moment, what James had seen had frightened him more that he'd care to admit. He'd seen something alien in Lewis' eyes. A type of vulnerability that shocked him to his core. The man had always seemed to be a rock to him. Whenever he went off course, whenever he screwed up, Lewis was there for him. Knowing what to say, how to bring him back. And James desperately wanted to be the same for his inspector. He wanted to be able to reciprocate the support he was given, but he didn't know how. The words wouldn't come. As Lewis went back to his fruitless, desperate search, James turned away. He couldn't bear the pain in Lewis' eyes and he wanted nothing more than to run from the room, put some loud, fast music on and go back to work the next day to a Lewis that was back to his normal self. But he didn't run. He'd never have forgiven himself. He didn't have the words, that was true, but he had himself. Shrugging off his jacket, he crouched down to the mass of papers littering the floor. He began to read.

 

**************************************

 

Three hours later and James rocked back on his heels, landing on the floor slightly harder than he meant to. The quiet “Ow” seemed deafening to him in the silent room. Lewis' head jerked up.

“Are you alright?” The whispered voice sounded tired, defeated and James hated it.

“Nothing broken.” Lewis looked back down to the floor. James took a deep breath, it was now or never. “Sir?....Please.” He didn't know whether it was the fact that he spoke, of the fact that his voice sounded so pleading, even to his own ears, that made Lewis look up at him.

“I'm sorry James. Look go home, get some sleep, you don't need to stay” James scowled. That wasn't what he meant and he knew Lewis knew it.

“No. Sir this is fruitless, please just come upstairs. You need to eat something, drink something. Sir I... I can't sit by and watch you destroy your self like this.”

“I appreciate it James. But I don't need your help.” Hathaway bit back a frustrated remark. Instead he lowered his head.

“Just like I didn't need yours eh?” he said quietly. When he looked up again, Lewis was looking at him with a clarity that he hadn't seen for the last 3 hours. He bit the bullet and continued, his eyes staring straight into Lewis' own. “Where would I be if you'd given up on me sir? If you'd just washed your hands of me and walked away?” He knew neither of them needed to say it. They both knew he'd have burnt alive that night. They both knew that if Lewis hadn't cared, he would be dead.

“I'm not trapped in a burning building James, I'm not drugged up to the eyeballs either.”

“You might as well be sir. Please? Just come out sir. We can come back. If you really need to. Both of us.” James knew he was blabbing, but he didn't want to stop. Just in case Lewis didn't answer, and the silence stretched out again and he'd know he failed.

“Aye. I don't think I'll be back James.” The older man suddenly _sounded_ old for the first time in Hathaway’s experience.

“Its probably for the best sir. Come on, I'll buy you a pint. By that I mean I have beer in my fridge” He didn't want to say that he didn't trust Lewis to be left alone that night. Lewis smiled at him. It was a small, sad smile, but it was progress. The two men may have entered the basement separately, but they left together.

 

**************************************

 

They hadn't found any thing. James had known they wouldn't from the off and he suspected that deep down Lewis had known it too. It hadn't stopped James returning there alone a day later, unbeknownst to Lewis, just to check, just to be sure that he hadn't deprived his inspector of some vital truth. Sitting on the floor of the basement, he cursed the dead man that had caused his friend so much pain. Cooper must have known what he would cause and James hated him for it. Satisfied that he had been right and that Lewis could have sat down there for years and never found anything, he got up and left, slamming the door behind him. Closing the door on the basement tat had caused his friend so much pain in such a short time.

He'd succeeded. He'd been the rock. He'd given back what Lewis had shown to him and he knew that given a little time, his boss would be ok.

And that meant that so would he.

 


	4. After The Phoenix

 

It was no good. He couldn't concentrate. Every flash of the screen, every hint of red or orange and his mouth went dry.

Any word beginning with the letters “FI-” and he broke out in a sweat.

God knows how the other occupant of the office was feeling. Well, there was on sure-fire way to find out.

“Fancy a pint sergeant?”

A guarded look greeted him, not quite a smile, but not a scowl. Blank. No. Not blank. Carefully controlled. Designed purely to hide feelings. Lewis hated it. He didn't want his colleague to feel like that around him. He wanted the lad to feel like he could talk about things. He'd seen the man take things to heart and he didn't want to leave him to stew over his thoughts on his own. He shouldn't have to. Lewis reminded himself that this was partially his fault. Oh yes, he'd had good reason to be pissed off at Hathaway, more than good a reason. But he shouldn't have lashed out when the lad was that vulnerable, that lost. He should have supported him, took him home, told him to stay there. Maybe then he wouldn’t have got so drunk. Maybe then Zoe Kenneth... He stopped his thoughts. That way lies a guilt trip. Looking at the man in front of him, he realised that he'd need to offer more of a rope to pull him in. He just hoped it wasn't a rope that would hang them both.

“I'll even have the orange juice if you want?”

That worked. A smirk worked its way, unbidden onto the younger man's face and he nodded, almost shyly.

In the car they talked.

Things were said, things that needed to be discussed.

In one of them trust was somewhat restored and the other, a sense of loneliness was slightly lifted.

Things were almost back to normal.

 

Hathaway had the orange juice. He didn't mind.

 

 


	5. Fever

“You seen Hathaway yet?” Lewis said to one of the constables on the desk.

“No Sir. He called in sick sir, said he wasn't coming in.” Lewis shook his head, smiling at the young uniform.

“Lazy sod. Cheers Chris.”

“No problem guv.”

 

****************************************************

 

He decided that since James hadn't returned the call he'd made half an hour ago, or replied to the various texts sent since, that there were only two options. One, James was skiving off. Admittedly it didn't seem particularly likely. That left number two. James was genuinely ill. And considerably so, if he wasn't answering texts, the boy was practically glued to his phone. It made Lewis uneasy. In fact the only other time he could remember Hathaway being ill, he'd been with him. And that was hardly the lad's fault, he had been poisoned with arsenic. Either way, it couldn't hurt to pop over after work. Could it?

 

Sighing, he pulled up outside James' flat at half 8 that evening. If this was Jim trying to get out of paperwork he'd...well he wasn't sure, but he'd be bloody annoyed.

He quickly realised that this wasn't the case, when after five rings, he got no answer at the door. Walking round to the living room window, he saw James slumped on the floor, head rested against the sofa. Lewis silently thanked whatever entity was answerable for decreeing that he ended up in a rough school in Newcastle, where he learnt how to pick locks. He wrestled Hathaway's door open and rushed into the living room.

“Ah Jim, should have gone to bed ye silly boy”. He wasn't expecting an answer and he didn't get one.

 

****************************************************

 

After practically carrying Hathaway up to his bedroom, Lewis set about trying to find the things that he would need. He reasoned that the ever-careful Hathaway would have a basic first aid kit somewhere in his house. Once he found it, he pulled out the thermometer and the ibuprofen. Satisfied that James' temperature was below 103.F (he'd learnt that above that was a hospital job. He and Val had to rush Lyn to A&E when she was 5) he returned to James' bedroom to check on him.

 

It became apparent to him at about half 9 that James was actually ill. He resigned himself to the fact that it probably meant that he'd be here to the early hours. Not that he really minded. Robbie Lewis wouldn't have had the heart to leave the pale, shuddering form on the bed alone, even if he'd wanted to.

 

****************************************************

 

He sat up with James through the night. Alternatively trying to cool him down, and get him to sleep. Hathaway's submissiveness, only served to prove to the inspector that he really was ill. He didn't protest as Robbie shoved a glass to his lips, didn't try to shrug the help off as he normally did. He wasn't really sure James even knew he was there, whenever the younger man's eyes were actually open, they were glazed over and he didn't respond to any thing Lewis said.

 

He knew that soon would come the shaking, the fatigue and unconsciousness. All this knowledge served to do, was to convince him further that it was a bad idea to leave his sergeant alone that night. The man was clearly not all there and Robbie couldn't trust him to be able to get himself help if he needed. Especially since when he'd arrived, James had been passed out on the floor.

 

He pushed away limp hair that was plastered onto the feverish man's face, the movement coming naturally to a man who'd had two children. Satisfied that James wouldn't die in the next 10 minutes, he quickly went to the bath room and prepared a cool flannel, intending it to be used on Hathaway's forehead, which was so hot Lewis was sure he could cook off it. He put it where it was needed, replacing it every time a movement caused it to slide off

 

He kept guard over James as he tossed and turned, muttering in the throes of the virus that gripped his system. Held down his limbs as they jerked, the body's response to infection. Woke him up every time the fevered muttering got too frantic, every time the pale face displayed that haunting look of terror.

 

When the fever broke, it was a relief to both of them, even if James wasn't alert enough to realise. Lewis had been starting to get worried, he might have nursed his children’s fevers but that was a long time ago. Lewis smiled slightly as the younger man settled into more peaceful sleep.

 

****************************************************

 

Its disconcerting to realise you've lost twenty four hours of your life. Which is why James Hathaway woke up feeling extremely disconcerted. He was lying in his bed, feeling as weak as a kitten and drenched in sweat. He couldn't remember getting up to his bedroom, but he knew he must have left it because he was in his work shirt and trousers. So he must have got up and got ready for work and never made it there. Once the world had stopped swirling, he turned over and saw the painkillers and thermometer lying on his bedside table. Along with a glass of water, something else he didn't remember sorting out. Soon after while he managed to stagger to the bathroom and change his shirt, washing his face as well.

 

After he'd made himself look semi presentable, he made his way slowly downstairs to the kitchen, realising that he hadn't eaten anything for at least the twenty four hours he couldn't remember. He was still shaky but he felt a bit better. Good enough to attempt to make and eat an omelette and try to keep down a cup of tea.

 

He was somewhat surprised to see his inspector slumped in the armchair in his living room. Although a lot of things now suddenly made sense. Like how he ended up in bed, with water and painkillers within easy reach.

“Sir?” He watched as Lewis started awake, blinking blearily at him. He saw the moment where Lewis realised where he was and shifted upright in his seat.

“Jim. How're you feeling lad?”

“Better sir thank you....Have you, um, been here all night?” Lewis nodded at him, still a little sleepy. James felt a look of gratitude spread across his own face as he watched the older man stand up and stretch his back, groaning.

“Why?” Lewis looked at him, as if the question was ridiculous. There was a sadness in his eyes that James didn't understand.

“You were in a bad way sergeant. You were passed out on the floor when I got here. Couldn't have left you to it could I?”

“...Thank you sir” James meant it, now that he thought about it, he had vague recollections of feverish nightmares.

“Don't mention it Jim. Its fine, honestly.” His voice told James that he wouldn't accept any more gratitude. Not a natural hero, Robert Lewis. So James decided to show his thanks in the way he knew would be accepted.

“Sir, since you're here, do you want breakfast?”

“If you're up to it James.” James nodded.

“S'least I can do sir. Omelette okay?” He saw the grin on his bosses face and returned it. He didn't miss that Lewis followed him into the kitchen and stayed nearby in case he collapsed again. He made them both breakfast and once they were full up, Lewis jerked his head to the door.

“I best be going Jim, Our Lyn's coming over tonight, I need to make the flat...well habitable.” James nodded at him, sitting back from the table with a contended sigh.

“Yes sir. Er...what day is it?” Lewis snorted quietly as he read James' mind.

“Sunday sergeant. You don't need to go into the station.”

“Ah blessed relief.” He got to his feet, alarmed at the way his head seemed to take a little longer to get there than the rest of his body. “Thank you.”

“Get away back to bed with ye.” Lewis' grin was tempered with lingering concern. James could see the sense in his words, he was really tired.

“With pleasure sir. Thank you again sir.” Lewis nodded at him in acknowledgement of his thanks and smiled.

 

He waited until he was sure his sergeant had made it safely to his room, before he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

“Anytime kidda, anytime.”


	6. Significance Of Names

“ _How did you know where to find me?”_

“ _Significance of names, Jim.”_

“ _That's not an answer sir”_

“ _Not now James. Please.”_

 

James had stopped asking then, Lewis was clearly tired and he knew that the smoke inhalation had affected the older man the same way it had him, if not more. He could see how his superior was holding his shoulder stiff, the strain of hauling a tall, if skinny, sergeant out of a burning building who for all intents and purposes, had been a dead weight. He shuddered at this last thought. He had very nearly become one.

 

******************************************

 

Now, sat in the office before Lewis has turned up, he pondered on the inspectors enigmatic words. His computer whirred into life noisily and it sounded deafening to him in the empty office. He started the internet browser and before he knew what he was doing, he was on a name meaning site

 

******************************************

 

_> Robert = Bright Fame_

_> Lewis = Fame, War._

Well that wasn't right. Lewis was quite possibly the most modest man he'd ever met. Everyone in the station did seem to know him though, back from his days working with Morse, Hathaway guessed. War, well he was a policeman. They were both fighting some epic eternal war against criminals in a way. But Lewis wasn't an aggressive man either. Unless he was severely provoked and never without good reason. As far as James was concerned, coming face to face with the man who had killed your wife was a good enough excuse to shout at said man. He'd have stopped Lewis from physically damaging Monkford, but Lewis wasn't like that. James decided he would have been. He'd have tried to put Monkford into the floor. It was probably why Lewis was an inspector and he wasn't.

 

******************************************

 

_>  James = Supplanter_

_> Hathaway = someone who lives by a heath._

Lives by a heath? Well James supposed that Creavecour hall was a big expanse of green space. But it wasn't a heath. And he lived sort of near Wytham woods. But that wasn't a heath either, that was a wood, clue's in the name. And he lived in the city, which was not heathland, last time he looked. He searched again looking for any other meanings.

_> Derived from “Heaethuwig”, meaning 'Strife', 'Contention' and 'war'._

Well that made more sense. Interesting that both him and his inspector's names meant 'war'. Admittedly it was a war they could never win. Never had the phrase, “You may have won the battle, but you've yet to win the war” seemed more appropriate to James. Contention seemed to fit too. It had been a big part of his life. Contention between himself and his faith, contention between himself and his friends. Contention between him and his parents. Contention every which way he bloody looked. And Strife was more than apt, considering the last week.

 

Supplanter? He'd had to check up on what that meant, but he had been right. The third result on google had provided a suitable answer;

_> A supplanter is one who takes the place or moves into the position of another. _

He supposed he'd taken the place of the other 4 new sergeants that had been after the job at Kidlington.

 

He also supposed that he'd taken Morse's place as Lewis colleague. No, not taken a place, more filled a gap. If anything, Lewis had taken Morse's place and James himself had taken Sergeant Robbie Lewis' place. He'd seen pictures of Sergeant Lewis. He seemed happy in most of them. Always seemed to be smiling. _So I haven't completely taken his place then._ James had never been that happy sergeant. It wasn't that he was unhappy, just that at the moment, he didn't really have a lot to smile about.

 

The more he thought about it, the more he thought that 'supplanter' fitted Lewis better. The older man had supplanted his father's role that was for sure. Lewis had given him more fatherly advice than his 'Dad' ever had. Lewis had come to visit him in hospital, and it was Lewis, not his father that had patched him up after Zoe Kenneth had attempted to kill him. Admittedly this wasn't all his fathers fault. James had turned away when he was 20 and not bothered to look back, but he reasoned that if he wanted to, his dad could find him.

 

A small voice in the back of his mind told him that he'd only known Lewis after his two years of drinking. He had no idea whether Lewis had been like Dad when he was drunk. Some how he thought not.

 

He sighed as he decided that he needed a coffee. Lewis would be here soon, and he'd be happy to find that James had brought him one as well. It was the least he could do considering the older man had saved his life. A fact that he still hadn't worked out. He hadn't told anyone where he was going,he hadn't even known himself till he found her stood on his front doorstep. How had Lewis known where to find him? Zoe had barely been a suspect. As he stood up a thought made him pause. He bent back down to the computer, accessing the name site again.

 

_> Zoe = Life_

_> Kenneth = From “Cinead”, meaning “born of fire”._

 

James finally understood. He figured he owed his inspector a pint.


	7. Sort Him Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This started life as a direct comparison between Sergeant Hathaway and Sergeant Lewis from Inspector Lewis' POV. It was inspired by the Morse episode “Masonic Mysteries”. I was confused that while Sgt. Lewis knows his way around a computer and even how to find hackers, Insp. Lewis doesn't know what an Ipod is...  
> ...But it got away from me and Lewis' thoughts took a decidedly different turn. I hope it is still enjoyable.

 

I watch him, sitting at that computer with his back turned to me, and I wonder.

 

He's thirty-three. A mere boy, compared to me now. I was thirty-five, when I started working with Morse. No thirty six, I turned thirty six on that first case. Not that much difference between us then.

 

Not much difference at all, yet at the same time, a whole generations difference. I was twenty-seven when he was born. Its hard to remember that sometimes, he seems so old. Old and young at the same time. He's seen more...experienced more than most people his age. Not just in the job. I'm not an idiot, I can see that his childhood wasn't as happy as mine was. I don't know what went wrong but, it was bad. He never talks about it. Except once, that one time just after the Zelinsky case went to court.

 

“ _Remanded for sentencing, pending a social report, which will probably say he had a very unhappy childhood”_

“ _And did he?”_

“ _Well who didn't? But we don't all go around abducting ten year old girls do we?”_

 

I heard it. But I didn't understand, I didn't pick up on it. Does he believe that? 'Who didn't?' I didn't, I mean times were tough in Newcastle in the fifties sure. But I don't look back with sadness. Does he really think that everyone had a bad time of it. Does he know any different? But then I look at the environment he grew up in. Mortmaigne, Hopkiss. Kids are smart and he's smarter than most. Did he work it out, even at the tender age of twelve?

 

God...Did he _have to_ work it out? Exactly _how_ unhappy was his childhood? Did...?

 

No...No he'd have said something. He'd have reacted worse surely? He'd have told me.

 

As soon as I think it, I know that's bollocks. He's a private sod and he wouldn't tell me. He didn't tell me about Will McEwan. I had to force it out of him, shouting match in the street. I regret that, more than he'll know. It felt too close to home. Too close to the screaming arguments I used to have with Ken when he came in two hours late, knowing it was my fault because I wasn't even at home to reinforce the boundaries we tried to set him.

 

I hear him sigh as he leans back in the chair, headphones in. He cracks his knuckles and then gets back to work, but not before pulling that contraption out of his pocket and pressing a few buttons. The music changes, I can hear it from here, the office is that bloody quiet. Its changed from the violin sort of sound from before to heavy guitars. Whatever, if he can concentrate through it, who am I to judge? Too many reports typed up whilst trying to block out Morse's Wagner. Must have made me bitter. Funny that, I don't mind a bit of Wagner now.

 

That's one way we were different. I was happy at that age. At least I think I was. I was the optimistic one, the chipper Geordie. Jolting Morse out from the dumps, bit of banter to make him smirk. Or scowl depending on his mood. I've looked back at the photographs. I smiled a lot. I always seemed to be smiling. Its odd really; I don't know what I was smiling at. But I was happy. Working with a bloody good, if a bit difficult chief inspector. I had a b...beautiful wife and two amazing kids.

 

James doesn't smile nearly as much. And he doesn't have the wife and kids. And he is certainly not working for a clever chief inspector. Although he could be. He's good enough to be an inspector now. I don't think he'll go for it though. He said if I left, he'd leave too. Well I'm not gonna be around for ever. I'm sixty-one. I've got four years left in the force before I'm out on my ear anyway. Maybe less, I've got a sodding doctor's appointment tomorrow. Can't say I'm looking forward to it. I know the drill. 'Eat properly, drink less...and you need more exercise Mr Lewis.' And I'll nod and agree, walk home, cook myself a microwave meal and have a beer. Probably won't even feel guilty about it.

 

James' computer beeps at him and he frowns at it, clicking and pressing buttons until it gives in and he gives a satisfied little smirk. One way we were similar. I was good with technology back then as well, I knew who to use a computer. Of course, they didn't do nearly as much as they do now. What with internet banking, downloads and what is it....anti virus software? Well I dunno where I am any more with it all. But at his age, I was pretty damn good at it. Annoyed Morse that did. What did he say? “ _I never did trust computers, its only people like Lewis that can work them_ ”. Lucky I did know, he could have gone down for murder. I prided myself on it then, something I could do that Morse couldn't, probably one of the only things. But now, James can do everything I can and more. Stuff that I have no idea about. He tried to show me how to use that flipping iTunes thing the other day. Personally, I dunno what's wrong with a bloody Walkman. Although that little iPod thing he has is a bit clever. Something like two thousand songs on it he told me. That's a lot of CD's. Blimey but I'm too old to get the hang of it. I used to know this stuff. Out of touch, out of date, that's me. Maybe I'm not so very different to Morse either.

 

Another thing Morse never seemed to get the hang of, that I had down pat; relationships. I was married before I was thirty. Morse made it to sixty-odd and never managed it. Tell a lie, he nearly did, so he told me. But nearly never won a cigar.

 

Me and Val were happy. More than happy. I loved her, truly, madly, deeply...or how ever the song goes. She was my rock, my sail, my anchor. I try not to show it, but I miss her, every single bloody day. James knows. I've seen him look at me sadly, like he doesn't know what to say, but feels something needs to be said. I wish I could tell him its my burden to bear, he doesn't need to feel my grief, let alone try and relieve me of it.

 

I wonder if he knows grief like this. I know he's lost people, Will McEwan for one. But someone he loved? He never talks about his parents. Not mentioned them once. I don't know what this means. I don't know if they're dead, or estranged from him or something like that. Does it link back to his unhappy childhood? Forgive me, but I hope it does. A terrible father or mother, I can understand, there was enough of that on the estate I grew up on. But the other thing... the poison that spread through Creavecour twenty five odd years ago, and again a year and a half ago. I don't think I could bear it, not if he's gone through that.

 

I look at him now, grinning like a Cheshire cat at a joke email someone's sent him. Is he happy? He's got a lot to be happy about, stable career (most of the time), friends, health (if he quits smoking. I think I'm gonna have to work on that one, there's no way I'm letting the cheeky sod go before me). He smiles, he laughs at jokes and he engages in banter. He's witty is our James. But is he happy.? Sometimes he'll say something funny and laugh. I'll join in. But I notice. Its all in the eyes you see. His eyes aren't laughing. I never let on that I've seen and if he realises, he never acknowledges that I know.

I want him to be happy. He's a good young man, he'd make someone a good husband someday. He'll make a good father too. I just hope he...lets go of the past at some point so he can realise for himself. I want him to have the same happiness I felt, the wife, the kids. Val would have loved him. It would be different to Morse. She'd encourage me to get him over for dinner, wouldn't mind us going to the pub together. But she'd have recognised the same things in him as I have. The sorrow that he carries around. I don't think he even knows its there any more. He's become so used to it, he just tolerates it. She would have wanted to sort him out, wanted me to sort him out.

 

I wish I could sort him out. He's a good lad, he deserves happiness in his life. I'm scared he'll end up like Morse. Old, bitter and not interested in keeping himself healthy. Morse was a fundamentally good man, I was honoured to work with him and pleased to call him a friend. But E.Morse was too smart for his own good and so is James. I don't want James to grow up full of regrets and what ifs. He's a very confused and insecure young man; for reasons I'm not privy to, reasons I don't think I want to be privy to...

 

...Reasons I can guess at.

 

This won't do, I'm getting worried and angry. I clear my throat and he looks up, like a rabbit caught in headlights. He probably forgot I was there, lost in his world of internet and music. Well good luck to the lad. If that's his escape...well I've seen plenty of young'uns turn to other things for escape. Drink, drugs, crime. Music, well harmless really. He could have turned to something a lot worse. That lad, that lad could have really fucked his life up.

 

But he didn't, he's still here, surviving. He may not smile as much as the rest of his peer group, but he's stronger than that. Bloody strong. Come through a lot of shit that boy. I wish I could have saved him from it. I'd never tell him like, one day I'll find a way to let him know, there's people out there that care about him. I really don't think he realises it. Its sad in a way.

 

Well, if I can do anything to help him, I will. Duty of care. I've got a duty of care to young James. Its more than that though isn't it Robbie? He's a mate. And if there's one thing I've learned growing up in Newcastle...you stick by your mates.

 

He's smiling now. He's worked out where he is and what's going on. He looks tired though. Ah well Lewis, here you go. Try and sort the lad out. He needs someone to do it, he's had 33 years to work it out by himself and look where its got him.

 

“Fancy a pint lad? Might as well get going. We're not getting anywhere.” The smile spreads above his face. It reaches his eyes this time. I can't help grinning in response. I can tell when something genuinely pleases him and I get a small swell of pride when I've put that grin on his normally inscrutable face.

“Of course sir. I can always do with a pint.”

 

We walk out the office, he picks his jacket off the back off his chair. I notice that his sleeves are rolled up, just like mine were so often during long, boring slogs through paperwork when I was a DS. But I watch him walk down the corridor and I no longer recognise my self in him. He still looks like he's carrying the world on his shoulders, the weight of it is pressing him down. One so young shouldn't look like that. I'm pretty sure I never did.

 

In some ways, we weren't so very different, him and me. But in others...in other ways, we couldn't have been further apart.


	8. Chivalry Isn't Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good friend of mine wanted Chivalrous James, and so this little snippet was written.

They'd solved the case, and as such, felt they deserved a reward. Well James and Robbie felt they did. They weren't exactly sure why Innocent and Hobson were with them, but neither man was really bothered.

 

So it was that all four of them were sat at a bench in the Trout's beer garden, toasting each other's health and the end of another case.

 

“Good work boys” Lewis raised his eyebrow. _Boy? I'm old enough to be your father Jean...well at a push anyway._ Lewis found himself grinning as James fell back theatrically, clutching at his heart.

“Praise? What on earth is happening? This is unheard of...Sir, I think I'm hallucinating.”

“Shut up James.” Innocent snapped at him but they all knew she was trying not to laugh at the younger man's antics. Lewis chuckled and Laura smiled as James almost toppled off of the back of the bench. Robbie grabbed his arm and stopped him falling on his head.

“Cheeky sod, I should just've let ye fall. One of these days you're gonna end up with a demotion on your hands.”

“Yes James, you should be grateful that I'm in a good mood.” James bowed his head.

“Yes m'lady.” Robbie snorted.

“You've been at the beer too much lad.”

The ladies watched the evolving banter with a considerable amount of amusement. It was always preferable when these two were happy. They seemed to require no effort with each other, and as a result, they were good company to be in.

 

*******************************************

 

The evening wore on in the same vein for a long while. Lewis could see that James was drinking steadily. He couldn't blame the lad, it had been a tough case, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on him nonetheless. For the most part, the young man was being jovial and entertaining. A lot of his awkwardness seemed to disappear with his sobriety. Laura caught him looking and they shared a smile, it was nice to see James come out of himself for a little while.

 

Then a man came over to their table and Lewis tensed immediately. Trench coat, sunglasses perched on his head, notebook in his pocket...a reporter. James caught his expression and turned around noticing all the same things as Lewis had and mirroring his scowl.

 

“Yes?” Lewis asked, the epitome of politeness. The reporter ignored him and looked straight at Innocent.

“Mrs Jean Innocent? Detective chief Superintendent Innocent? John Bates of the Oxford mail.”

“Yes?”

“You don't have to talk to him Jean.” came a low voice from Lewis' left. Ah. It appeared that jovial drunk James had gone. Well this was going to prove interesting at the very least.

“I am aware of that Sergeant” Jean Innocent said coolly. “I think having attained the aforementioned rank, I am aware how to handle the press.” Her tone wasn't designed to be rude, just to put the inebriated younger man in his place.

“Handle us eh? Not a very charitable view of the press you have is it superintendent?”

“Not when they accost me during my time off, no.”

“You are a police woman, you are never off duty.”

“Ja-mes...” Lewis warned softly as he saw his sergeant's fists clenching under the table. The younger man shot him a look that clearly said; 'If he carries on, I'm going to hit him'. Lewis raised his eyebrow in warning as he turned to face the other man fully.

“That maybe true. But everyone is entitled to a little peace eh? If you want some sort of interview, wait until Monday.”

“Yeah, shove off” James muttered under his breath, only Laura hearing him.

“I'm going to get another round in. James, would you come and help me carry it back”. Hobson said, attempting to remove James before he caused a problem. Hathaway faltered for a moment and Lewis hoped that he would leave. His sergeant had the best of intentions, but he was only making things worse, being overly antagonistic. Robbie smiled at Laura, _thank you_.

James turned and started to walk away with Laura. The reporter chose this moment to make another snide comment.

“Don't worry, I won't wait until Monday, I'll get a story written today, ready for the Sunday papers.”

“And pray tell me what will that be?” Innocent asked, growing increasingly irritated with this man who wouldn't leave.

“Oh, it'll be a feature piece. On the young sergeant there, clearly under-disciplined. And his inspector who obviously doesn't teach him procedure.”

“That piece will never be printed.”

“Won't it? I wonder Mrs Innocent, how the public will feel, reading about the superintendent who would rather spend time in the pub with her colleagues than keep the public informed on their safety.” Lewis scowled at the man and thanked Laura for removing young James from the situation before he could do something stupid. No sooner had the thought made it through his head, than he heard a shout of “No James!”. Too late, he turned to see the young man behind him. Before he had a chance to stop him, Detective Sergeant James Hathaway had put the reporter on the floor with a single punch and was now standing, menace written across his features.

“Detective Chief Superintendent Innocent does her best for the public and nothing that a poisonous little toad like you can print will convince anybody otherwise!” Lewis grabbed James roughly by the shoulder and forced him to sit down on the bench. James made to get up again but Lewis was insistent.

“Stay there!” he hissed, anger in his voice that made the still drunk sergeant realise what he had done. Not that he regretted it.

“Ah. Under-disciplined and violent to boot. My paper is going to have a field day.” The reporter had struggled up from his position on the ground. Lewis rolled his eyes. The press! Never took a hint. Even when it was quite literally pushed in their faces.

 

The reporter had got up now, declining to take Lewis' offered hand. He glared at James and snarled at him.

“Your career is finished sergeant! You see if it isn't!” He left hurriedly, sunglasses re positioned to cover the black eye that was already forming. Lewis started after him but Innocent put out her hand.

“Let him go Robbie. I meant what I said. That article won't be printed.” James looked up, confusion written on his face.

“Yes James, I did say that. If you had been behaving properly, Laura wouldn't have had to remove you for that bit of the conversation.”

“But...The article? How?...” James trailed off miserably, realising that what he'd done must surely have repercussions.

“I happen to know the editor of the Oxford Mail. I also happen to know that he has been looking for an excuse to...relieve Mr Bates from his duties. I think harassment and involvement in an altercation with the police will be sufficient reason.” Jean nodded with the end of the sentence and looked at James, sat on the bench, looking for all the world like a schoolboy sat outside the headmasters office

“Um...What about?...What's going to happen to me Ma'am?” Jean almost couldn't hide the smile that was threatening. She could see Laura and Robbie having a similar problem. James really did look adorable, sat there trying to act nonchalant when in actual fact he was just a drunk young man who had done something pretty stupid but not entirely ignoble.

“We'll talk tomorrow Sergeant”, she said in her best stern voice, sure that any other tone would just result in her, Robbie and Laura breaking down into laughter. “When you've sobered up a bit and thought about this some more.” James nodded dejectedly and she took pity on him.

“Don't worry James, I know you had the best of intentions”

“The road to hell is paved with the best of intentions.” James mumbled sadly. Robbie snorted softly at him.

“I think you'll find that it's 'good' intentions lad. Come on you daft sod, lets get you home.” Jean and Laura nodded at this idea and James let himself be lead out of the beer garden.

 

Lewis could hear the girls giggling as they left and he found it very hard not to laugh himself.

“Might have done something stupid sir.”

“Aye, I think you might have done lad.”

“Dunno how to fix it.”

“Can't help you there, you'll just have to hope Innocent feels merciful tomorrow morning.” James sighs ans bows his head.

“I have to admit though, you got back from the bar quite quickly Jim.”

“Well, truth be told sir, I was already half way back to start shouting at him when he started saying things about you. And then I heard the rest and...”

“Thump?” supplied Lewis. He couldn't help but feel a little touched that Hathaway was ready to defend him as well. And a little guilty that he hadn't stuck up for James. All thoughts were dispelled as they arrived at James' front door and the man in question fumbled his key into the lock.

As James let himself in, Lewis grinned at him.

“Ye daft idiot. What are we gonna do with ye eh?”

“Dunno sir, Innocent will probably think of something.”

“Go to sleep James. And be ready in the morning.” He smiled again at James' worried and abashed expression.

“Don't worry bonny lad, she'll not kill ye.” Grinning to himself, he walked off in the direction of home.

 

*******************************************

 

The Sergeant stood inside Innocent's office the next morning, fighting both a terrible headache and a feeling of nausea as the well deserved hangover made its presence felt.

He hung his head, hoping that Innocent wouldn't shout too much. His head really did hurt.

“You're behaviour yesterday wasn't very professional Hathaway, even if it was guided by alcohol.”

“I'm sorry ma'am.”

“however, I am touched that you felt the need to defend my honour, but really James, you can't just go around punching people that say things you don't like. It isn't professional and it'll get you into all sorts of trouble.” James nodded.

“I understand ma'am. I'm sorry.”

“You look a sorry sight, that's for sure. How do you feel?”

“terrible Ma'am. I feel foolish and extremely hungover and...”

“And?”

“My er, my right knuckles hurt like hell.” Innocent glanced down at the sergeants right hand and saw a little bit of bruising around the knuckles.

“Well if you will go around being drunk _and_ chivalrous James...”

“Yes, I know, only myself to blame...Um What happens now?”

“Well since, the incident hasn't been officially reported, I think you can get away with a verbal warning. After all, it would be churlish to discipline the man that gallantly and chivalrously, albeit drunkenly, to my rescue.”

“Thank you ma'am. I assure you it won't occur again.”

“I should hope not...Go on James, go home nurse that hangover and be ready for work on Monday.” He nodded and leaves, missing the grin that's broken out across Jean Innocents face. Trust Hathaway to actually have taken all this seriously, to have actually thought he could lose his job over such a petty incident.

 

On the other side of the door, Lewis is also grinning. His sergeant is nothing if not bloody jammy. James came out and Lewis threw a companionable arm around the sergeant's shoulder.

“You my boy, are very bloody lucky lad.”

“Tell me about it” James says exhaling in relief.

“Fancy a pint?”

James groans and Lewis easily sidesteps the swipe that is directed in his direction, grinning. Its not often that he has the drop on his younger friend. But he takes pity on the suffering young man.

“I know what you need, and its not a pint.”

“I could have told you that”

“You my boy, need a proper fry up.”

“You cooking?” James asks.

“I'm cooking.” Lewis confirms with a nod.

“You're on”.

 

They walk down the corridor in comfortable silence until Lewis stops.

“Of course...this means I'm going to need to go and buy some eggs.”

 

 


	9. Started At Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the Lewis Week Of Love Challenge on the lewis_challenge LJ in 2012. The prompt was 'Impersonal Love - (Love of places, activiities, art, music, literature, ideas...)

James leans against the station wall, drawing deeply on the cigarette held in between his fingers. A slow smile spreads across his face as he feels the calm seep through his body. If there's one thing he loves, its the very unnatural high he gets from the first cig of the day. He's not stupid, he knows that this is only the relief of withdrawal symptoms, but this is of little consequence to him. It feels good, and after such a hard case, that's all he cares about.

  
A cigarette butt is thrown to the side and Hathaway smiles as he remembers Lewis picking up one of his similar butts ad handing it back to him, exasperation on his face. Lewis has never understood his addiction. Lewis hasn't really understood much of him he supposes. He hasn't really made it easy, but then, he doesn't understand himself.

  
The man himself rounds the corner and slumps against the wall next to him. He can tell that Lewis has been finding the case as hard as he has. He'd offer the inspector a cigarette if he didn't think that it would disgust the man. Lewis sighs and turns to look at him, an appraising and...almost sorrowful look.

“Sir?”

“Why do you do it Jim? Smoke, I mean.”

  
                                                                                                  ******************************************

  
The words are out of Robbie's mouth before he realises he's going to say it. Every time James lights up, every time he fiddles with his coat pocket, every time his coffee breaks take five minutes longer than Robbie knows the machine takes to make coffee; he wants to grab the lad and stop him. Lewis gets flash backs to LePlassiter and he desperately doesn't want that for his sergeant. He doesn't want to be going to visiting his sergeant in hospital, doesn't want to think that his colleague and friend who is thirty odd years his junior, could die before him. So he turns to look at the younger man, determined that if the reason isn't good enough, James Hathaway is going to quit smoking.

  
                                                                                                    ******************************************

  
James looks back at him. He doesn't really know how to explain this. Does he love smoking? That's what he wants to say; that he loves it, the feeling of calm it gives him. Does he even like it though? He's not overly keen on the taste, not overly bothered by the smell. But can he honestly say he likes it? He knows what its doing to him, what it could mean for him. He knows that with every drag of the cig, he's taking himself one step closer to death. But the feeling of calm...surely if it wasn't for the smoking, his heart would have given out to the stress? But these thoughts don't even make sense to him, so he has no idea how to explain it to his boss. He takes a long drag, much to the disapproving glare of Lewis and blows it out the side of his mouth, careful to direct the smoke from his friend's face.

  
Stalling for time. Eventually he gives up, realising that Lewis really won't let this go.

  
“I started when I was fifteen sir. I er, I didn't really get on well in secondary school. Might have been a posh public school, but I was still only an estate manager's son. I wasn't nobility, and I was never going to be.” He sneaks a look at Lewis to gauge his reaction but the face is blank so he carries on.

  
“I wanted to fit in. The kids that would have any chance of actually talking to me, well they were smoking. And I wanted to talk to them. So I started too.”

  
Lewis raises his eyebrow and James grins sheepishly.

  
“There you have it sir, the origin of my long, loving and intimate relationship with nicotine. No hidden trauma, no amazing story. S'bit pathetic really.”

“You could stop now. You fit in here.”

“I could...but I don't want to. In truth sir, well I enjoy it. Maybe its addiction, maybe its not, but I do love the calm feeling it gives me. The only other way to get that is to get drunk...and I don't think Innocent would be all that happy with me drinking JD during duty hours.”

“Aye, that she wouldn't.” Lewis grins and then sighs sadly. “You just think about it eh?”

James nods as Lewis turns to go back inside. But as he watches the retreating back he knows he's a lost cause. He was serious about the intimate loving relationship thing he span to Lewis. He has no desire to break it up either.

 

 

 


	10. Drunken Words

James Hathaway was drunk. Not falling over and spewing up drunk, just pleasantly inebriated. He knew he was drunk because all the cars heading towards them so far seemed to have 3 headlights. Is inspector was also drunk, James could tell by the way Lewis kept stumbling. He was a detective after all.

People kept walking towards them, unsurprising considering they were walking down a street. Some people smiled at them, some people gave them vaguely disgusted looks which James thought was unfair, they weren't _that_ drunk. A thought struck him. A thought that he probably wouldn't have had and _definitely_ wouldn't have voiced if he were sober.

“"You know, all these people we're walking past sir, they probably think I'm your son." Lewis stopped and looked at him, incredulity swamping his face and for a second, James feared he'd overstepped the mark. However Lewis merely broke into a cheeky grin as he answered.

“Not with that hair they wouldn't lad.” James flashed him an answering grin and they both staggered on towards the direction of home. James had been just about to comment on how the cars adorned with three headlights had suddenly managed to grow two more headlights each when he realised that Lewis was no longer walking next to him. He stopped and turned, wondering why the inspector had ceased to walk. Lewis had a sleepy, sweet smile on his face and it confused James greatly. Just before he managed to get a question out, Robbie spoke.

“I wouldn't mind you know Jim. If the people thought that I mean.” James could feel his face split into a wide smile and he felt warm inside. Although, he reasoned that could be the beer. Perhaps 'reasoned' was stretching it a little. His thoughts didn't really get that far. He just knew he was happy. He waited for Robbie to catch up and they stumbled on, James trying to subtly search passer-by's faces to see if they did think he as Robbie's son. He couldn't tell, but he decided that everyone was just being secretive tonight. He felt Robbie's hand on his elbow, guiding him sideways, h nearly fought against it, until he realised that Lewis was trying to stop him from walking into a bin. He grinned, wanting to thank Robbie for saving his life; _bins were dangerous adversaries. Especially when they had glass in them, his own had attacked him more times than he could remember._ Instead of the words he'd meant to say though, something entirely different came out.

“I don't think I'd mind either sir.” He shrugged as Lewis smiled a fond, happy, decidedly drunken smile.

 

Might not have been what he meant to say, but it didn't make it any less true.

 

One thing he would mind however, him and Lewis both, would be the hangover he was going to have the next morning.

 


	11. Migraine

James Hathaway didn't feel right. He was trying his best to ignore the feeling, but he couldn't deny that he felt rough. He didn't know exactly what was wrong but his vision kept blurring and he was finding it difficult to concentrate. They were working on a difficult case, involving codes and puzzles written in some undecipherable mix of Egyptian Hieroglyphs and shorthand. He'd been up nearly the whole night trying to work it out and he felt dog tired.

 

Lewis had to say his name three times before he realised he was supposed to respond.

“Sir?” he said finally.

“Are you ok James? You normally have some glib comment ready when I shout at you more than once.”

“Fine sir. Just really tired. Did too much research last night.” He saw Lewis' sceptical look, but he was grateful that the older man didn't push the point. He didn't want to admit he was ill, he knew how badly the inspector wanted to get this killer.

“If you're sure lad? Maybe you should go home earlier today.”

“I'll be fine sir. I'll go home when we catch this bastard.” Lewis gave a soft snort of amusement.

“You won't be any good if you're too tired to run after him sergeant.”

“I know sir. I promise that I'll get a good nights sleep tonight.” James replied, hoping that this would get his friend to drop it. He watched Lewis merely raise a resigned eyebrow and then look back at his paperwork.

 

*****************************************************

 

It was about an hour later when Lewis decided that he needed some sort of caffeine fix to get through the next part of the day.

“Fancy a coffee James?...James?” The younger man didn't answer straight away, instead rubbing a hand across his forehead.

“What? Oh, er Coffee, er, no thanks sir.” Lewis gave him a searching look.

“Are you sure you're ok?”

“Yes. Just got a bit of headache that's all.” Robbie shrugged and left the office, deciding that the younger man was in need of some water.

 

*****************************************************

 

When he returned, his sergeant was slumped over the desk. At first Lewis had just thought he was asleep, but the lines of pain on his face told him that something more sinister was going on.

“James? James? Lad, are you alright?”Robbie couldn't keep the worry from his voice. No discernible answer was forthcoming, apart from a mumble from the younger man. Lewis crouched down to his sergeant and laid a hand on James' shoulder.

“Jim, what's wrong? Come on son, how can I help you if you won't tell me?”

“Head. Hurtss.” James ground out. Lewis was immediately concerned. Very rarely did James slur his speech like that, and never without the aid of several beers.

He squeezed James' shoulder and attempted to sit him up, but Hathaway cried out and tried to put his head back on the desk.

“Not moving”

“Please James, we've gotta get you home.”

“No!...Hurtss to move” Lewis was more than concerned now, he was close to panic. He didn't know what was wrong and James didn't seem able to tell him.

“Ok” Lewis said, mindful to keep his voice low, since noise seemed to be making James worse. “What do you need?”

“Nothing. Just want tto ssleep.”

“You can't stay here like this Jim. Come on, let me take you home.” James groaned and stayed in the position he was in, hunched over his desk.

“Sir. Can't. Please”

Lewis was at a loss of what to do but he couldn't just stand by and leave the younger man to it. He settled on pulling his chair over to Hathaway's and putting his hand on the sergeants back, gently rubbing circles on it. He wasn't sure if he was doing any good but James hadn't told him to stop and he'd ceased groaning in pain.

 

That was how Innocent found them when she walked past ten minutes later. At first she thought James was crying, but she dismissed this almost immediately. Even if James did feel safe crying in front of Lewis (which she somewhat doubted), he wouldn't in the station. It was Lewis' look that made her knock on the door though. He looked panicked. Uncertainty and apprehension all rolled into one. Lewis' head shot up, and James' tried to burrow into the desk.

“Ma'am?”

“Lewis. What's going on? You don't look like you're working.” She said it softly, she wasn't annoyed with them, evidently something was wrong with the youngest member of the duo.

“S'James Ma'am. He won't say what's wrong. He won't let me take him home I don't know what to do.” Jean could hear the fear in the inspectors voice and she smiled to herself. Robbie Lewis cared too much. Not that she'd have him any other way.

“What's he said then?”

“Said his head hurts, and he's been slurring his speech.” Jean bent down so she was at eye level to James. Or would have been if he'd had his eyes open and his head wasn't facing the desk.

“James? How do you feel now?” He didn't answer and Jean began to have a sneaking suspicion as to what was wrong. She turned to Lewis.

“He's having a migraine Robbie. That would explain why he wouldn't let you move him.” Lewis relaxed a little now that he had some idea what was going on.

“What do we do? I don't know, I've never had a migraine.” Jean quickly went into care-mode.

“Draw the blinds Robbie. And turn the computers off. And the light.” Lewis quickly complied, acutely aware that James hadn't so much as moved since Jean had tried to talk to him.

 

Jean had returned to her office briefly, to get some pain killers (she kept some in her desk ever since the fiasco Hathaway had created over the Hugh Mallory case), and a cup of water for the young sergeant. So for the moment, Lewis was sat in the office on his own with Hathaway. Even now that he knew what was wrong, Lewis felt uncomfortable. He still didn't know what to do. He wanted to talk to Hathaway, to try and make him feel better, but he couldn't be sure that that would make his sergeant's pain worse. He decided that all he could do was put a hand on the lad's back and be ready to help him if he needed it. For his part, James hadn't moved or made any comprehensible sound since Jean Innocent had left the room. He continued to rest his head on the desk, the odd moan leaving his lips.

 

Eventually, Innocent came back with the water and painkillers and between them, Robbie and Jean managed to coax Hathaway into moving enough to take them. Robbie had a moment of genuine panic when James carried out an instinctive action and knocked his head back to take the pills, which resulted in him nearly passing out. Rather than try to get James to move, Jean sent Lewis out of the office to find some sort of blanket.

Lewis returned after 10 minutes carrying a two blankets.

“Ma'am? Is he any better?”

“Not really Robbie. He could be like this for 48 odd hours...Why do you have two blankets?” Lewis gazed down at his hands, worry still on his face from Innocent's revelation.

“What?...Er, oh, I thought I could make one into a pillow?” Jean smiled at him, trust the older man to think of something like that.

 

Ten minutes later and they had James settled, head resting on a folded up blanket, and the other blanket draped over him, to combat the chill of lying on the floor. The combination of tiredness and the medication he had taken meant that James soon fell into a fitful sleep. Lewis and Innocent stayed as quiet as they could, talking in hushed whispers. Innocent sat on the edge of James desk, whereas Robbie opted to sit on the floor against the wall nearby to Hathaway's head. Part of Innocent wanted to gently remind the inspector that his back was going to really hurt when he got up, but she knew him well enough to know that he'd insist he'd be fine. And that when something was wrong with James, the inspector didn't think of himself. That much was evident from the way that he'd run into a burning building to save the young sergeant.

“How long do you think it'll last ma'am?”

“The headache?” Lewis nodded and Jean could see the worry in his eyes. It was sweet, after all, it was only a migraine. Of course they were very painful and they were hellish to go through, but they weren't life threatening. But Robbie was acting as if James was gravely ill. Jean supposed it was one of those things that he just didn't have any experience of, and as such, it scared him more than it should. She however, did have experience of them and could fully sympathise with Hathaway's predicament.

“Yes ma'am.”

“I don't know Robbie, it varies from person to person. Hopefully, when he wakes up, it'll have eased off a bit.”

“And then?”

“And then I suggest you take him home and make him go to bed. And I mean bed Lewis, not the sofa. Darken the room as best you can and give him some more painkillers.”

“Right...” the inspector paused, watching the sleeping man. “Blimey, he could be my Ken lying there like that. He's only a couple of years older and the amount of times I woke up to find Ken asleep on me bedroom floor after he'd had a nightmare...”. He trailed off, realising what he was implying to the woman beside him. Not that it really mattered. He did see James as a son, and it wasn't like Jean Innocent would disapprove, she'd probably be the first to agree that the lad needed it. He needed a father figure, needed someone to look after him. It never once occurred to Robbie that there was no one to do the same for him. It never once occurred to him that James Hathaway was trying to do the same for him.

 

An hour later, Hathaway stirred. Innocent had already gone back to her office, albeit reluctantly. She had wanted to stay and make sure that the man was ok, but she had a police station to run. Lewis was still sat on the floor near to his head and he was instantly watching the younger man.

 

James shifted slightly as he blinked his eyes open, coming alert when he realised that the ceiling he was staring at wasn't his own. Heavy lidded, he looked around in the confusion that newly awakened people do. Lewis watched all this, smiling slightly at seeing Hathaway at his most...Hathaway-ish. That's when people are most like themselves;when they first wake up, before they project the version of themselves that they want people to see. Lewis couldn't help but think that James looked like a kid when he first woke up. Although Robbie had to admit to himself it was probably Hathaway's cropped hair and the way he was almost curled into the foetal position that did it.

“Sir?”, James croaked. Lewis could almost see the rest of the question in his eyes; ' _What am I doing lying on the station floor wrapped in a cell blanket?'_

“Jim. How're you feeling?”

“Like someone's had me in a boxing ring for the last 4 hours.” Lewis took the fact that Hathaway speaking quietly to mean that he still had a headache. Not as bad as before, because James had moved his head around so that he could see the inspector, and he was no longer slurring his speech.

“How's your head?”

“...Pounding. Could easily sleep another twelve hours.” Lewis smiled softly behind him.

“Well lad, you can't spend another twelve hours there. You up to moving?”

“Er...one way to find out?” James did not look thrilled at the prospect. Lewis stood up, groaning as his back protested at being leant against a cold, hard wall for at least an hour and a half. As he went to grab the as yet untouched water, he saw James gingerly sit up. He also saw the colour drain from the younger man's face. Robbie quickly went back to where James was, crouching down and making sure he'd be there to catch James if he passed out again.

“Easy kidda. Take it easy.” With Robbie's help, James managed to stand up and sit in a computer chair without passing out.

“Ugh. Feel sick sir.”

“Have a drink. Just sip it mind, or you will throw up.” James nodded and Lewis watched to make sure he really did drink, before grabbing the blankets of the floor and folding them up ready to be taken back down to the cells. He then waited for ten minutes to make sure that James actually kept the water he'd drunk down.

“Will you be alright James? I've gotta go and tell Innocent that I'm taking you home.”

“No need sir. I'm ok.”

“You said that before lad, and then you went and pretty much collapsed. Forgive me if I don't believe you” Lewis replied dryly. “Anyway Innocent will want to know you're a bit better. She was worried about you.”

“I'm sure I'll be ok for ten minutes sir. There's really no need to take-” Lewis cut him off with a hand in the air.

“There is absolutely no way, I am letting you go home under your own steam.” James was just about to reply when Lewis carried on, in a slightly more passive tone. “And besides, what happens if I let you drive back and you black out at the wheel eh? You could kill more people than just yourself.”

James clearly hadn't thought that far ahead and his eyes widened a little as he took in what Lewis had just said to him.

“Oh...” he said quietly.

“Oh indeed. Get anything you need to take back with you, I'm gonna go and see Innocent.”

 

*****************************************************

 

“Ma'am?” Lewis poked his head around the door as he knocked on it. Jean beckoned him in.

“Robbie. How is he?” She could see from the more relaxed look on the inspectors face that nothing bad had happened since she'd left.

“He's awake. He says he feels sick, but I think the headaches eased a bit.”

“That's good. Did he get up?”

“Yes. I mean, he was a little shaky but he is sitting in the chair now. I'm gonna take him home.”

“I think that's for the best Robbie. I'm glad he's feeling a bit better though, I've known people to have a migraine like that for over 24 hours.” it was Lewis' turn for his eyes to widen.

“Twenty four...bloody hell!”

“Indeed Robbie.Go on, go and take that boy home.” Lewis grinned and nodded before leaving, closing the door behind him.

 

*****************************************************

 

“Come on champ, up you get.” James raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. He didn't feel up to banter. He was unbelievably grateful for Lewis' steadying hand on his shoulder as he got up, his legs felt like jelly.

“You alright?”

“Think so sir. Feel like I've just run a thousand metres.”

“Cuppa tea and bed that's what you need Jim.”

“Sounds bloody amazing right now.”

 

*****************************************************

 

It had taken them a little while to get to the car. James' headache hadn't been as gone as they'd thought it had. And they had to stop for him to throw up twice on the way home. But eventually they got back to James house. Hathaway leaned against the door frame with his eyes closed as Lewis took his keys off him and let them both in.

James went to sit on the sofa, but Lewis grabbed his shoulder gently.

“If you sit down there, we'll never get you upstairs. Come on.” James grinned tiredly and went up to his room, while Lewis readied a cup of water and the painkillers to take upstairs.

 

When Lewis went upstairs, James was already lying on his bed. Robbie chuckled as he realised that Hathaway hadn't even gotten out of his shirt, although he did appear to have taken his trousers and tie off. When he walked into the room, James stirred.

“Wa'n't 'sleep sir.”

“Course you weren't lad. Come on. Take the painkillers and then get some sleep.” James nodded sleepily as he took the proffered drink and pills. Lewis pulled the duvet over the semi-conscious young man and then retired to the sofa. He didn't think Jim would mind. And he'd forgotten to ask Innocent if migraines could get better and then worse. He felt it'd be better to be safe than sorry.

 

*****************************************************

 

In the morning, James came downstairs, just as Lewis was starting to make tea.

“Sir, you didn't have to stay.”

“Morning to you too” Robbie said, grinning. “Feelin' better?”

“Much better sir....Thank you.”

“Don't mention it Jim. Now, get some food into you and I'll give you a lift to the station to get your car.” James smiled.

“Thank you sir. Really you didn't have to-”

“I told you. Don't mention it. Just next time you feel ill Jim...” Robbie's face turned serious, and for a split second, James saw the fear that Lewis had felt when he'd passed out.

“Next time, tell me before it gets that bad eh? Too many experiences like that, seeing you slumped over the desk, slurring your speech an' all. Not good for old blokes like me.” James nodded, suitably chastised at the worry he had caused by trying to work through a migraine. But a little part of him was staggered by the care the older man had shown for him.

“Promise sir.” It was the least he could do. And he fully intended to do more. Namely cook them both breakfast.

“Good lad.”

 

James smiled as he began to make an omelette. He felt better, he was ready for a day at work and he knew he had friends he could count on.

 

It didn't stop him slipping the painkillers into his pocket though.

 

Just in case.

 

 

 


	12. Palms

James sat by the hospital bed, scratching absently at the scab on his arm. He sighed, watching the sleeping man in the bed.

 

***********************************************

 

_He'd watched Lewis go down, dropped by the bullet that slammed into the inspector's thigh. James had cannoned into the suspect, full of rage and no thought for his own safety. He'd acquired slashed arm for his troubles, but that was insignificant._

 

_Once the suspect had been handcuffed to a nearby radiator, James was on the phone, bellowing for an ambulance as he skidded to a stop by his boss._

 

“ _Sir?”_

“ _James...did you get him?”_

“ _Yes. He's handcuffed to the radiator...I er, I might have neglected to turn it off.”_

“ _You're going to have human rights on your back for that one.”_

“ _I have to admit sir, at this particular moment in time, I couldn't give a shit.” He must have looked as scared as he felt, because Lewis smiled slightly and touched his arm._

“ _Lad, I'm ok. I'm not bloody dying, it just really sodding hurts.”_

 

_10 minutes later, paramedics were performing CPR in the back of an ambulance, while James sat nearby, helplessness swamping him as he thought he was losing his friend._

 

***********************************************

 

Now, watching the older man sleep, he still couldn't fully come to terms with the fact that Robbie would be okay. He felt like he'd lost years off his life. He could still see the paramedics pumping their hands up and down on Lewis' chest.

 

Loss of blood they said. Bullet had nicked the femoral artery. Not enough to make him bleed to death in minutes. But enough for him to be bleeding steadily inside and for James not to notice. He found that he couldn't look at Lewis' chest. Every time he did, he saw the palms pressing into them, trying to restart the muscle in the centre.

 

So he focused on the inspector's face. It was pale and James could swear that there were several more lines on it that there had been a week ago. Admittedly there wasn't normally a breathing tube attached to Robbie's nose either. James had been worried when he'd seen that, but the nurse had assured him that it was just to ensure that Lewis would get enough oxygen, it wasn't a reflection of his breathing.

 

***********************************************

 

“ _Sir? Come on Lewis, wake up.” It hadn't made a difference that first night. He'd pleaded with the unconscious inspector to be ok. Lewis hadn't even stirred. James had sat there for hours, only moving when a concerned nurse had forced him to go and get a drink and some food before he ended up in a hospital bed too._

 

***********************************************

 

The inspector groaned in the bed and James was instantly sat forward. He could see Lewis' eyes moving under his eyelids and he knew that the older man was trying to wake up.

“Come on sir. Nearly there.” Robbie slowly opened his eyes.

“Ja...”

“Sssh. Wait a minute sir. Have a drink” James grabbed the cup of ice chips by the bed and carefully spooned some into Lewis' mouth. Once his throat was no longer dry, Lewis tried again.

“What...What happened?”

“You got shot sir. Leg, it er, nicked your femoral.” James was aware that his voice was shaking, and he could see that Lewis could tell.

“James...”

“Sir?”

“Stop worrying James. I'm ok.”

“With all due respect sir. You said that last time.” Lewis raised an eyebrow at him. He evidently didn't remember that.

“I did?” He rasped. James nodded.

“Yes. And then you proceeded to go and have your heart stop in the ambulance! So I apologise if I wait for the doctors to tell me this time.” He'd said it harsher than he'd meant to, all the worry and frustration of the past week bubbling to the surface. Lewis was quiet, digesting what had been said. He could see the haunted look in James' eyes.

“Sorry kidda.” James shook his head.

“No, don't be. Sorry sir, just...you know.” Lewis nodded. He did know, he knew all to well. Running into a burning building to find his sergeant passed out on the bed. He hadn't known James had been drugged then, he'd thought the smoke had over come him. For a split second, he'd thought he was already dead. And then seeing the younger man attempt to run back into the house after his would be murderer. Being told by a doctor that James'd be fine and then seeing the young man lying unresponsive in the bed, pale with a cut on his cheek and soot in his lungs. Robbie realised that James hadn't even had that assurance that he'd be fine.

“Promise you this time. That I'm ok I mean.”

“Don't sir. Don't make a promise that you can't keep.” Lewis grinned tiredly, amused slightly by James' seriousness.

“Made it this far haven't I?” he mumbled as he fell asleep.

 

***********************************************

 

A few days later and he was out of hospital, standing in the car park, waiting for James to bring the car around to the front of the hospital. His leg hurt a lot more than it had when he first woke up. He supposed he was on stronger medication then. He was already annoyed at the crutches he had to use, unable to get the hang of them.

He hobbled to James' car. The lad had attempted to drive up to the door but a last minute emergency meant that an ambulance had come screaming into the car park and James certainly wasn't going to cut in front. Lewis lowered himself gently into the seat and chucked the crutches in the back, with obvious distaste. James merely watched and then smirked.

“What Sergeant.”

“Nothing sir. I just never thought you'd be defeated by a simple crutch. They are supposed to be instruments designed to help, not hinder.”

“Ha bloody ha. You sodding try them then.” James had merely continued smirking as he pulled out into the traffic.

 

Robbie never expected James to take him up on his word, playfully grabbing the crutches from the car before Lewis got a chance, and demonstrating to his superior, just how easy they were to use.

“Alright Jim, you've proved your point, you cheeky sod” he said, as James managed to perform some sort of trick. “It's not a bloody BMX lad. Now give 'em back” Hathaway laughed as he handed them back and as he settled into them, Lewis wondered again at how young James could look when he let himself be happy.

“Coming in for a cuppa lad?” Lewis grinned at the young man, “Aw sod it, I'll get us in a takeaway...s'least I can do.”

“If you're sure sir.”

“Yeah, wouldn't have offered else would I? You're going to have to go and pick it up mind.”

“If you're talking about that one on the corner of the high street, then I'd drive to hell and back to get hold of it. Their food is delicious”

“Never tried it Jim, they really that good?”

“Sir...you haven't lived.”

 

Lewis grinned as he made his way into the kitchen to start on the tea, letting James' chatter wash over him. By the time Hathaway had got the menu up on his phone and had read it out, Robbie's stomach was rumbling quite loudly. This food better be as good as James said it was.

 

Then again, the amount the normally quiet young man was talking about it, he had a feeling it would be.


	13. Car Trouble

"Sir, can I offer you a lift home tonight?" James waited for an answer, knowing that his boss' car was in the garage after he'd managed to puncture two of the tyres in one day. Lewis wasn't getting his car back for another two days, the garage was busy.

"If its not too much trouble Hathaway, it'd be much appreciated." James returned Lewis' grin and shrugged.

"Less trouble that listening to you moaning about the buses tomorrow." Lewis punched him lightly in the shoulder before both men went back to their paperwork.

 

**********************************************

 

At half past five Lewis got up and turned his computer off.

"Come on lad, if you're going to drop me home, the least I can do is not keep you here for as long as I normally would have." James picks up his jacket and follows the inspector outside.

 

They get into the car and straight away, James turns on the CD player. Within minutes, Madness comes blaring out of the speakers and James hastily rushes to turn the volume down. Lewis snorts in amusement and James turns to regard him for a second before pulling out into the road.

"What?...Sir, What?"

"Nothing James. Just didn't see you being into Madness...far cry from your medieval madrigal whatsits."

"Ah well, there you go sir, you don't know everything about me" He can almost see the ' _Tell me about it'_ written all over Lewis' face. He grins and then takes pity on the inspector.

"I can turn it off if you want sir."

"Nah Away man, I don't mind them...have you got 'One step Beyond' on this disc?" James fiddles with the controls a few times and the voice of Chas Smash comes bursting into the car. James grins as he notices that Lewis' fingers are beating out a tattoo on the armrest in his passenger door.

 

There's been an incident or something, a fire the radio had told them earlier, that had made driving in Oxford tricky that afternoon. The one way system wasn't helping and both of the policemen decided to find a nice pub somewhere and have dinner, in the vague hope that the roads would be sorted by the time they were ready to leave.

Unfortunately, everyone else had had the same idea, which was great for the publicans, but meant that Lewis and Hathaway had to drive a fair way before they found somewhere that had car parking space. Still, they eventually found a nice pub and sat outside, the warm weather meaning that they could comfortable sit in their jackets in the beer garden.

 

They talked while they ate, Lewis asking James about his plans for the weekend. Unsurprisingly, the younger man didn't have any, and Robbie found himself inviting James around to dinner. Before long, they'd planned to invite Jean and Laura as well and Lewis had managed to convince James that it was better if he cooked. After all, you could hardly invite your colleagues and friends over and then serve them a 'pierce and ping' roast dinner. James had agreed and Lewis had text Hobson and innocent just then, inviting them over on Saturday. That gave him and James 2 days to get hold of the ingredients. Well, it gave James two days for that. It gave lewis two days to make sure his flat was habitable.

 

After their dinner, they paid and James (who had been drinking orange juice all evening) turned to Robbie and told him that they'd better go and test the roads.

Once they were in the car, Lewis went to turn the CD player on again, and James let him, but not before he'd turned the volume down further. After all, it was nearly ten in the night and James liked quieter driving the later it was.

 

The roads were quiet, as they headed back towards Oxford, which James liked, it meant he could drive quickly and confidently, without such a risk of hazards. Lewis appreciated his efficient driving, longing to get back to his bed. He also felt slightly guilty for agreeing to dinner, knowing full well that it meant James would get back even later than normal since he was dropping Lewis off. He looked across at the Sergeant, who was concentrating intensely on the apparently deserted upcoming roundabout. He was just about to say that James could drop him at the end of his street, save the lad having to come down it and then turn around, when he spotted something moving up the second left exit very fast. Robbie was shouting before he even registered what he had seen.

"JAMES WATCH OUT!"

It was too late, the speeding car slammed into the driver side of James' vehicle, shunting them off the roundabout and leaving the car rocking beside the road. His air bag had gone off in the collision and he batted it down angrily, adrenaline coursing through his system as he watched the offending car drive off, front bumper left behind on the road. He heard a groan and he immediately snapped around, fear for himself forgotten as a new, paralysing fear almost swamped him. Hathaway hadn't said anything.

 

He was somewhat relieved then, when he saw that Hathaway's eyes were open and the younger man was definitely breathing. Breathing too fast yes, but he was definitely breathing. His hands were still on the steering wheel and the knuckles had gone white. Come to think of it, the lad had gone an interesting shade of grey.

"James? Y'ok son?" Hathaway didn't answer straight away and Lewis was suddenly worried that he'd misread what he'd originally seen, that his brain had tricked him into thinking that the sergeant was alive. But then James slowly took his hands off the wheel and mumbled.

"Think my right leg's broken sir. Are y-you oke?" He sounded calm, but there was a shake in his voice that Lewis couldn't miss.

"Yeah, I'm fine...I'll call the ambulance James. Stay calm ok?"

"Th-There's more sir...I...my n-neck...it really hurts." Lewis swore mentally. He knew what that could mean, he wasn't stupid. There was every possibility that his sergeant's neck was broken, or at the very least fractured.

"Ok...Ok, I'm going to get out of the car now Jim. I'm going to call an ambulance and then I'm going to report the incident. Its going to be fine ok. Just try and stay calm." Lewis talked as calmly as he could, aware from the speed that James was breathing and the wideness of his eyes that the younger man was on the verge of full-blown panic. James gave him a very shaky thumbs up, obviously too scared to move his neck.

 

Lewis didn't move too far away, staying close enough to the car that he'd hear if James spoke to him. At first he dialled an ambulance and explained the situation, being told that they'd bring a way to get him out of the car. Then he rang Innocent.

"Ma'am?"

"Robbie? What is it? You're not still in the station are you?"

"N-no. There's been an accident. I have to report a traffic accident." He gave the location of the crash and Innocent said that he was right to ring her and get it called in.

"What are you even doing there Robbie?"

"Me and James, went for a pub dinner in order to avoid all the traffic." Another thought struck him and he walks over to the abandoned bumper of the other car that was involved. "Tell uniform to look for this car." As he recites the plate, he looks over at James and he can see the panic in the younger man. He tries to give him a reassuring smile but he can hear his voice shaking as he gets to the end.

"Robbie? Robbie...How involved were you in this incident?"

"Speeding car ma'am, smashed into James' car on the way..."

"God, are you ok? James?"

"I'm fine...I'm fine. I think James' leg is broken..." He knows that his voice is giving away all his feelings, but he doesn't care.

"Robbie, there sounds like there's more."

"Y-yeah...Er...his neck hurts...Fuck...I think he's broken his neck ma'am."

"Bloody hell! Have you called the ambulance?"

"Yeah. I-I don't know what to do. He's bloody scared Jean and, I'm not much better."

"Just sit there, stay in the car if it is safe, and keep an eye on Hathaway. I'll get a patrol car looking for the bastard that did it. You just sit tight and wait for the ambulance alright?"

"Yes ma'am." Robbie ends the call and heads back into the car.

 

"Jim?"

"Sir?"

"You ok?"

"...No..." Lewis sighs in his mind. Its never a good thing when James actually admits to not being alright.

"Does it hurt anywhere else?"

"No just my leg and my n-neck sir." he looks so impossibly young as he tries valiantly to sound like he isn't terrified. Lewis reaches a hand out to grab the one of James' that's resting behind the gear stick.

"You're going to be alright kidda. Course you are. Paramedics'll soon patch you up, you'll see."

"M'scared"

"Aye, I know lad. Me too. but it'll be ok." Lewis hears the sirens, a split second before the car starts to flash blue.

 

The paramedics rush out of the ambulance and head over to the car. The fire brigade arrive with them, bearing the tools needed to cut James out of the car. After 10 minutes of just him and Hathaway, Lewis can feel himself starting to panic. He's been holding it in for the boy's sake but there something about those metal cutters that sends the fear of God through him. It's like it only just hit him that James can't just get up and walk off. Like he's only just realised how serious this is, even though his mind has been screaming 'Broken neck!' at him for the last 8 minutes. Since Hathaway's terrified murmur.

 

He keeps hold of Hathaway's hand as the fire brigade start to cut away at the car. He keeps up a gentle litany of comforting words and noises as the paramedics move James out of the car, as they strap him onto a stretcher and fasten a neck brace into position. He doesn't wince when the ambulance goes over a bump in the road and James cries out, gripping his hand so hard that Robbie can almost feel his knuckles grinding together.

 

When they get to the hospital, he sits outside the operating theatre, and the room where they x-ray and scan people, without complaint waiting for the doctors to come and explain to him what's happening.

 

A doctor does eventually find him and let him know what's gone on, and then he's allowed into James' room.

The lad looks so young it hurts. His leg is in plaster and he has a white neck brace on, that looks incredibly uncomfortable. Even asleep though, James is grimacing, and Robbie knows that ad has a tricky few weeks ahead of him. As this thought is crossing his mind, James' eyes flutter open.

"Sir?... What hap-...oh, yeah that"

"James, how are you feeling kidda?" He knows its a stupid question, the boy is clearly in pain.

"Hurts sir..." There's something else, there's a lingering fear in James' eyes that Lewis knows needs to be addressed right now.

"You're ok son. Doctors say you've just got a nasty whiplash, necks not broken. Just your leg." James closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"Thank fuck for that." he says quietly and then he grins. Lewis knows its a nervous grin, a release of emotion, but he doesn't care. Its good to see James smile.

"You're gonna have to keep that neck thingy on for a little bit though. And you're gonna need crutches."

"Better than spending the rest of my life unable to move sir. I think I'll deal." He pats James carefully on the shoulder and stands up to leave.

"I'll come and get you when they let you out lad. My car'll be fixed by then."

 

**********************************************

 

That Saturday, James is relaxing on the sofa (as much as you can when you can't move your neck and you leg is slowly throbbing anyway) and watching television when the front doorbell goes. He sighs and struggles upright, reaching for the crutches that's he's reliant on for the next few weeks.

 

Opening the door, he sees Jean, Laura and Robbie stood on his doorstep, each holding a bag. Everyone of the bags has droplets of water on the inside and steam rising from them, a sure sign that the contents are warm. As if the smell of a mixture of Indian and Thai food wasn't a give-away. Laura speaks first;

"We figured it'd be unfair to make you cook while you were injured and you could probably do with the company." James laughs and steps back to let them in. Jean and Laura head straight for the kitchen to get plates and cutlery, relieving Robbie of the bag he was carrying as they go. Robbie hangs back to help James close the door, crutches not being conducive to that particular activity.

"You ok Jim?" He asks, feigning nonchalance, trying to cover up the concern in his eyes.

"Yeah. Hurts and all, but I'm ok sir. Be even better once I've eaten." He looks towards the kitchen as he hears the ladies laughing about something and smiles.

"Thanks...for this...its nice and...I appreciate it." Robbie smiles, its adorable how awkward the younger man is.

"No worries kidda. Laura and Jean agreed that just 'cause you got injured, didn't mean we couldn't come and invade your house." He puts his arm on James' back and watches as the sergeant, swings himself into the kitchen. Robbie has to admit, he's gotten pretty good at those crutches.

 

**********************************************

 

Two hours later, and the meal has long since been eaten. A mixture of food, warmth and painkillers means that Hathaway has fallen asleep on the sofa. Robbie and Laura go back into the kitchen to wash up the dishes that they all used. One less thing for James to have to do in the morning. They figured it wouldn't be easy for the man to balance on one leg and wash up without the man moving his neck as well.

 

Jean finds a cushion and slides it gently under Hathaway's head, his neck is already hurting, it wouldn't do for him to get a crick in it on top. James shifts a little, mumbling something incoherent and Jean smiles, the sergeant hasn't looked more like a child to her. Robbie and Laura come back in and Laura moves his crutches to within easy reach for when he wakes up. Anod from Robbie and Jean pulls the throw over James, all three of them grin as he instantly brings a hand up to curl over the top of it.

 

They leave soon after, making sure that his painkillers are in easy reach too.

 

When James wakes up in the morning, his leg hurting, and sees the crutches and painkillers put within arms length of him, he smiles. And makes a mental note that he owes all three of his friends a drink or two.


	14. Sleep

All this James falling asleep on his sofa business has to stop. Mainly because, since Creavecour, Robbie is finding that he almost doesn't have the heart to wake James up when a call comes in.

 

The lad looks young when he's asleep. His carefully constructed wall of knowledge and dry wit come tumbling down and he becomes that twelve year old boy again.

 

In sleep, all of James' defences dissolve. His facial expressions are free to dance across his face and Robbie can tell just how badly the latest case has effected him. He suspects that James doesn't know this, he suspects that if he did, the boy would be a lot more careful where he laid his head.

 

Still, he felt honoured that Hathaway feels safe enough to fall asleep in his presence. Of course, sometimes the younger man is so exhausted that he can't help it. That had been the case after Zoe Kenneth's attempt on his life. James had looked ok outside the hospital, he'd looked fine – but for the cut on his cheek, you'd never have known anything had happened. The story had been different however, once Robbie had driven him back to his flat. The lad had dropped onto his sofa and mumbled something about Lewis helping himself to a cup of tea, 'Or something stronger if you like sir?" Robbie had declined, opting to make tea, he was going to be driving home after all.

 

Once he'd finished making them a cuppa, he'd headed back into the living room, only to find Hathaway slumped onto the arm of the sofa. The lad's breathing had settled into a steady rhythm and he was clearly fast asleep. The expression on his face however, spoke of anything but sweet dreams. Hathaway's haunted looking face softened a little when Lewis pulled a blanket over him and immediately, James shifted to accommodate the new found comfort. Its been three years since then and here they are again, James asleep on his sofa after a case that he hasn't quite come to terms with.

 

He contemplates that James looks like a child when he sleeps. One hand curled around the top of the blanket and one balled into a loose fist by his nose, the knuckle of his thumb resting on his bottom lip. His head was tucked in slightly and his knees drawn up to make his gangly body lie in a loose 'z' shape.

 

It is easy to see the inner child in James Hathaway while he sleeps, and sometimes, Robbie gets an inkling that James doesn't sleep as well in his own flat as he does in Lewis'. Why else would the kid fall asleep so readily on his sofa, and be so reluctant to go home after a tough case?

 

So when the call comes in to attend another murder, another life lost in a meaningless and probably exceedingly violent way, sometimes Robbie considers leaving the lad asleep on his couch. He considers giving James a couple of hours more of innocence before he has to face the horrors of the job they do every day.

 

But he always wakes him up. Not only because he knows that James' won't appreciate being treated like a child even when he looks like one, but because he doesn't want to go out to the scene and leave the lad to wake up alone.

 

He suspects that James Hathaway has woken up alone too many times in his young life. Robbie wonders if any one was there to sooth him after childish nightmares relinquished their grip. He rather thinks not and this makes Lewis both angry and sad. Someone should have been there for the child that James was and still is in many ways. He should never been left to get on with it alone.

 

Robbie'll be damned if he lets it happen to the lad again.

 

 

 

 


	15. Burning Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a brief mention of a case involving the death of a wife and daughter. Brief mention as in one or two sentences and nothing graphic.

Lewis and Hathaway were walking back from the pub when James saw it. They hadn't been drinking much. They'd only had one beer each, neither man really in the mood to drink after the case they'd just wrapped up. A man had killed his baby by accident and then when his wife had cracked under the initial interrogation, he'd killed her as well. So although they got a result...they didn't feel good about it. James was still coming to terms with the idea that a man could kill his child. Hathaway had dealt badly with his visit to the crime scene, finding it difficult to be in the same room as the child's body. Laura had advised that he didn't come to the post mortem and Lewis heartily agreed. He needed James brains on this case, and a shell-shocked and angry James was not a clear thinking man.

 

So as it was, they were walking back through town and James stopped, frowning as he looked at the roof of the houses opposite.

"Sir...does that look like...does that look like a"

"Fire?" finished Lewis."Yeah. Shit, call the..." James was all ready off, running through one of Oxford's ancient back alleys to get to the next street. As they ran, Lewis dialled 999 and called the fire brigade, giving the address of the street that they were currently running down.

They skidded to a stop as they arrived outside the blazing house. A man across the street ran over to them. James turned to him.

"What happened? We saw the smoke from the other street. Robbie called the fire brigade on the way"

"Dunno mate, there was some sort of explosion. I came out of me house-" Lewis interrupted the man.

"You live on this street? Do you know who lives there?" The man went pale.

"Oh God. Mrs...Mrs Kerman. Mrs Kerman and her sister...I think her sister's staying with her." Lewis and Hathaway exchanged a look and Robbie could see in the young sergeant's eyes exactly what he was thinking. _There's been too much death today, I've got to try and prevent this_.

"Jim...Jim no, you don't know what you're doing."

"Sir! The fire engine might not get here for another ten minutes."

"James! Its too dangerous."

"Didn't stop you did it...And honestly, if someone had told you not to go in after me, would you have listened?" Lewis couldn't answer and Hathaway nodded as he shrugged his jacket off. "Just call an ambulance, we might need one."

"She might not even be in there James!" Lewis shouted desperately after his sergeant, but Hathaway had already entered the burning building. Nonetheless, he called an ambulance. He considered going in after Hathaway, but he could see that the man who had met them was shaking and Lewis knew that he couldn't leave him alone. Besides, what good would he be? He's not as young as he was, he was at least three years younger last time he had run into a fire to save someone.

Just then, a car pulled into the road and a young woman got out.

"What's...What's going on? D-Doreen...Oh my word...DOREEN!" Lewis grabbed her as she started to run towards the house.

"Easy love, my sergeant's gone in there to find her. Are you her sister?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm st-staying with her for the weekend. What happened?"

"We don't know. James spotted the smoke and we...there's a fire engine and an ambulance on its way Miss. Just try and calm down." He turned around slightly to the neighbour they'd talked to before. "Could you make her a cuppa mate? Lots of milk and sugar eh?" The man nodded and he rushed back to his house to carry out the request and Lewis guided the woman down to the kerb and sat her down. While he was looking after her, he was worrying marginally less about Hathaway.

 

*********************************************************

 

James ran into the house, coughing almost as soon as he did so. The rooms were filled with acrid smoke and there were flames licking at the furniture. Hathaway could feel the heat rolling off the fire. He quickly searched the bottom floor and didn't find any people. He could feel the warm air in his lungs and he suddenly realised just how stupid he was being...just how stupid Lewis had been to run into Zoe Kenneth's house after him. His brow furrowed as he started to climb up the stairs. It was getting hard to breath and he knew if he didn't find Mrs Kerman soon, he'll be in no state to rescue her. He briefly curses himself as he realises that if he doesn't get out, Lewis is going to come in after him and suffer the same fate. He sees flashing blue lights and knows that either the fire brigade or the ambulance has arrived. At the top of the landing, he sees a woman's shoe in the bedroom floor and forges towards the lady, glad that it only seems to be smoke and not fire up here. He kneels down to the lady, coughing, scared for a moment that he may be bringing his lungs up. James started to drag her out, hoping against hope that he stayed conscious for long enough to get them both to the clear, outside air. He was seriously worried about the fact that Mrs Kerman was unconscious, that she had probably been in that position since the fire started.

 

He finally got her out of the front door and pulled her across the street, gasping for breath as the paramedics took her out of his hands. Lewis ran over to him as he started to try and get back into the building.

"James?...Sergeant! What are you doing?"

"...The...the sister." James panted, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"She's here, she wasn't in the house, She's there, sat on the kerb." James nodded slightly as he realised that there was no one else in the house. Meanwhile, the fire service had arrived and were starting to tackle the blaze. As they stood watching, Lewis realised that the paramedics were performing CPR on Mrs Kerman. He tried to guide James away, remembering the look on the younger man's face when they had lost the battle to save Jane Templeton. It as too late, James had noticed and his jaw was working as his chest heaved. As Lewis turned around again to look, he saw the paramedics sake their heads and sit back on their heels, a mixture of resignation and sadness on their faces. He could hear the keening wail of Doreen Kerman's sister as she realised that Doreen was dead.

Expecting to see blankness on Hathaway's face, Robbie was surprised to see desperation and anguish there.

James started to back off slightly, before turning and walking slowly back up the road. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this. It wasn't James just walking away, head bowed and steps unsteady. Robbie set off after him, finally reaching the lad and putting a hand on his shoulder. It was angrily shoved off with a subdued mutter. Lewis wasn't having it. They were nearly at the end of the street and Robbie grabbed Hathaway and spun him around to face him. He was shocked to see that there were tears streaming down the sergeant's face, although he wasn't making a sound.

"Jim?"

"NO! Don't try and...just no."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Of course it WAS! I didn't get her out in time, I was too slow, I dunno. But I didn't save her!" James is talking fast, taking quick, shallow breaths. Lewis recognises the panic and guilt that the younger man is displaying. He's seen it before. Last time he saw Hathaway in this state, he'd told the sergeant to get out of his sight and he'd later had to save his life. The lad was verging on hysterical and Lewis could tell from his pupils and his breathing that he really should be seeing a medic.

"James calm down. Look, it wasn't your fault, you have no way of knowing if you'd have been able to save her if we got there any quicker."

"You don't know that."

"And you don't not know it! Christ Jim, the state of the world isn't your fault you know?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look, life is shit kidda. That's just the way it goes. Some people live to a hundred, some people don't make it past their teenage years. There are some people who die in their sleep, and there are some people who die in house fires. You can't save them all."

"... _You_ saved _me_." James looks at the floor. "Its just...all of that and she still...fuck." Robbie guides James to sit down by the roadside, aware that James still isn't breathing like he should be. Lewis puts an arm around him, both for comfort, and to stop him doubling over as he coughs violently.

"You need to see a doctor lad."

"I'm fine. Just smoke in my lungs that's all."

"Don't be an idiot son. You can barely breathe Jim. Come on, we'll get the paramedics to have a look at you." Lewis said in a tone that clearly said ' _We'll talk later...right now you need medical help and I'm going to see you get it._ '

James merely nodded dejectedly as he let the inspector lead him towards the ambulance. As they got there, Mrs Kerman's sister approached them, eyes puffy and red. James looked straight ahead, scared to look the grieving woman in the eye. Lewis started to apologise for him, but the lady silenced him by putting a hand on James arm.

"Thank you."

"For what?" the sergeant said bitterly, "I failed didn't I?" The dead woman's sister looked at him sadly.

"Maybe...But you tried. That means a lot." Lewis nodded at her as she walked past, grateful that she didn't blame James, he wasn't sure if the younger man could take any blame. They got to the doors of the ambulance and Lewis prodded and helped James into the back of it.

"He went in and got the dead woman. The stupid idiot says he's fine but he can't catch his breath." The paramedic nodded, getting Hathaway to sit in the chair, since the bed was taken with Mrs Kerman's body. Lewis climbed in behind him. The paramedic took one look at James struggling to take a breath and secured a oxygen mask over the young man's head, before closing the doors of the ambulance. He banged on the cab.

"Shake a leg Charlie. The JR, quick as you like." Lewis didn't like the sound of that, but he didn't say anything, realising that the paramedics knew what they were doing and him badgering information out of them wasn't going to help.

 

It took two minutes and twenty nine seconds for it all to catch up with James. Whether it was the fact that he was within touching distance of the woman he'd tried so hard to save, or because he had finally realised that he was sat in the back of an ambulance finding it hard to breath, but either way it hit him square in the face. Lewis looked up from his hands as he heard the paramedic muttering words to his sergeant. James had his head in his hands and was letting out shuddering sobs, clearly trying to control them but failing miserably. The ambulance technician looked to Lewis, eyebrows raised.

"Try and calm him down mate. He's had too much smoke in his lungs. This really isn't helping him." Robbie's eyes widened and he crouched in front of James, taking both of his shoulders.

"Hey, c'mon now kidda. Stop this eh? You weren't to blame Jim. You know you weren't...deep down you know you did everything you could."

"...not...enough..." Lewis is fully aware that its not only the tears making his sergeant find it difficult to speak. He just hopes that James' lungs aren't permanently damaged.

"That's no way to think. Like her sister said. You tried. That's already enough James. There are other people that wouldn't have even attempted to go in that house."

"Fat lot...of...good...it ...did"

"You can't save everyone kid. You just can't. "

"Should be able...to...fucking...unfair other...otherwise."

"Life is Jim, life is." Hathaway laughs bitterly and rests his head back against some instrument panel, but at least he has calmed down. He's no longer hyperventilating or crying, although there are still tears drying on his cheeks.

 

When they get to the hospital, James is wheeled off to have tests done on his lungs and breathing rates and all sorts of other things that Robbie didn't really understand.

When he is finally allowed to see Hathaway, the young man is lying in a hospital bed, unconscious and unresponsive. There is a tube feeding oxygen into his nose and an IV drip running into the back of his hand. He's staring at the clip on the lad's left index finger, which is monitoring his heart rate and pulse and all his vital signs. Its while he's staring that a nurse takes pity on him and comes to explain that James had been sedated, that he hasn't jut collapsed. The nurse explains that they needed to sedate Hathaway in order for him to get some proper rest so that his lungs could start to fix themselves. Lewis nods and sits down by the bed, wondering whether he should phone Innocent and let her know that James isn't coming into work tomorrow. He decides that he should, but it takes him a good ten minutes to get around to it.

 

Three days later, he picks James up from the hospital and drives him home. The lad still has a nasty cough, but he is breathing a lot more like he should be. He's been ordered to take a week off work and Lewis has had to tell Innocent so that she makes him stay at home. They don't mention what happened and James seems to be fine, if a little bit breathless.

 

Lewis know that this isn't right, that James is still guilt-tripping himself inside. He doesn't say anything though. He knows its futile. The boy will come to him in time. It may be days, weeks, months, even years; but eventually, James will talk to him. And until then, he'll just have to keep an eye on the lad.


	16. Spiders

James was leaning on the car as he left Richie McGuire's house. He looked uncomfortable and for a moment Robbie is confused. As he gets closer though, James speaks and all is explained.

"How big?" It only takes a split second for Lewis to realise that Hathaway means the spider, someone must have told him. Robbie holds his hand out and makes a vaguely spidery shape with it.

"Oh Jesus!" Robbie grins as James turns away in disgust, he's started to get a handle on what's bugging the younger man.

"I don't have to take it into custody or anything do I?" Lewis just smirks. James isn't going to come out and admit he's scared, rather, he's covering up his anxiety by making quips.

"I hope it isn't indigenous to Oxfordshire, the Chief Constable wouldn't like that." Lewis humours him, pretends to ignore the fact that James is obviously less than happy with this turn of events.

"I wanna know if this particular creature comes from Venezuela."

"Yeah well, get someone to interview it other than me." That's an obvious expression of dislike. He can comment now, its clear exactly what James means by that.

"Arachnophobe Hathaway?"

"Card-carrying sir." That's as close to an outright 'yes' as he's ever going to get from James.

"So was Jo Race...but who knew that?" He doesn't miss the fact that James blows his cheeks out as they walk along and he wonders what state the younger man would be in if he came face to face with a spider, since the mere mention of them seems to considerably unsettle him. They walk towards the pond and the further they get from the house (and the spider) the more relaxed and back to himself James seems to get. And once James is back on form, it doesn't take long for his words to spark something deep in Lewis' brain that sends him rushing back into the house to confront the handy man.

 

He is glad that James doesn't notice the glass on the side on the room. He's really not sure how to cope with James having a panic attack as he suspects he would if actually clapped eyes on the Salmon pink Tarantula that was less than five feet from him and his arachnophobic sergeant.

 

*************************************************

 

Its a few days after the case and they are relaxing at James' flat. They've been drinking a little but its fine, since they have a day off the next day. Whatever mindless weekend drivel that they have on has just stopped for an advert break and Lewis gets up slowly.

"Sir? You don't have to go...I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Eh? I was going for a leak James.."

"Oh. Er, well the offer still stands."

"Cheers Lad. But I'm not taking your bed, I'll kip on the sofa."

"Your back?"

"Will survive a night on the sofa kid." With that, Lewis leaves to go to the bathroom, pondering on the fact that his sergeant doesn't seem to want to be alone.

 

Lewis is just washing his hands when something moves in the corner of his eye. There's a spider scuttling across the bathtub. Its not really a big one. All tiny body and long, spindly legs. If this was his flat, he'd leave it, not bothered by the uninvited house guest. But this is James' flat and he knows now, that if James sees this in the morning, he's in danger of having a heart attack. So he catches it in his hands and goes to eject it from the premises. Its then that he realises that there is no window in James' bathroom. Its cold outside and he knows that all of James' windows will be shut. He could attempt to open one, but then he's most likely to drop and lose the spider. Knowing like he does about how much James doesn't like them, he can't just leave the spider in the lad's flat.

"Ja-mes?" Robbie shouts through the flat.

"Yes?" James replies in a tone that suggests that he is slightly worried about what is coming next.

"Do us a favour lad and open your living room window." He doesn't wait for a reply before continuing; "Then stand away from it." He gets a very confused 'Ok' from James and he waits until he hears the window open before he moves into the living room.

 

The confused look is wiped from James' face as Lewis enters the room and the sergeant's finely honed detective skills jump to the obvious conclusion as to what Robbie holds in his hand.

"How big? Where was?- Actually I don't wanna know."

"Its only a littl'un Jim. Just figured you wouldn't want it watching you pee." The colour drains out of James' face and Robbie hasn't failed to notice that James has backed into the corner or the room. He also sees the minute dilation of the lad's pupils as he realises that Robbie and therefore the spider are between him and the door. Deciding that he probably wasn't far off about the likelihood of a panic attack, he quickly throws the spider out of the window with a quiet 'Sorry little fella' and then shuts the said window, ensuring that the spider won't get in again.

Its only when Robbie sits down again that James relaxed enough to come and sit down as well. He gave his sergeant a sidelong glance, seeing that the colour was returning to James' cheeks, but the younger man's eyes were periodically darting about the room, to all the places it would be likely to find a spider.

"You really don't like them do you son?" James shook his head.

"Wasn't joking when I said 'card-carrying' sir."

"I can see that Jim. Any particular reason?"

"Apart from the fact that they have eight legs and eight eyes, isn't that reason enough?"

"Squid's do as well, well the legs anyway, are you scared of them?" James shook his head in response.

"So what's the difference then?" James glared at him. "I'm not having a pop at you lad, I just want to understand that's all." The sergeant sighed, realising that Lewis was never going to let this drop.

"The difference sir, is that I've never been surrounded by hundred's of squid. Also they swim and don't crawl all over people." Lewis raises his eyebrow in a manner that clearly indicates he is intrigued and James resignedly starts to recount the tale.

 

*************************************************

 

_They were all playing in the woods that were at the back of the estate. Paul had found an old shed there when he'd been looking for a good sword stick. He'd told James, Scarlett and another boy Mike, that James and Paul went to school with. James had never really liked Mike, not trusting him. No where near as much as he did Paul. But Mike had a good imagination and it made the teams more even when they played at sword fighting. So they had all traipsed into the woods behind Paul, excited at the prospect of a new place to play._

 

_Eventually, they reached the shed and Paul stopped them._

_"I couldn't get the door open last time. One of you will have to do it." Scarlett pouted._

_"I'm the princess, princesses don't open doors. We get the knights to do it for us." Mike looked warily at the door._

_"How do we know it won't fall over...it might even be locked." Paul nodded his agreement. James sighed in that way that kids do when they think every one else is being silly._

_"Let me try. Us knights are good at this sort of thing you know." He pulled the stick from his belt and jammed it in the door jamb, heaving with all his might. He was so engrossed in the effort, he didn't see Mike pull Paul to one side and whisper in his ear. He also didn't see Paul shake his head sadly, or see Mike threaten to hit him._

 

_Suddenly, with a loud crack, the door flew open and James fell backwards. Scarlett held out a hand to help him up and they all peered inside. The shed was damp and dusty and had obviously not been used for a number of years. But since there was a hole in the roof, it was relatively light in there._

_"Some one has to go in and investigate."_

_"Not me, I'm a-"_

_"Princess, yeah we know" the boys chorused. They all looked at each other uncertainly, no one wanting to put themselves forward. After a while James spoke._

_"I'll go. But you have to keep a watch for pirates and wolves...and ghosts" he added as an after thought. The other three children nodded and James held his stick out in front of him as if it really were the sword he imagined it to be._

 

_He advanced slowly, not wanting to let his apprehension show, but not wanting run headlong into danger, even if he knew there wasn't really anything in there that could pose a proper threat. His child mind hadn't even considered the possibility that the wooden structure was unsound. It was lucky for him that it wasn't. No sooner was he in the middle of the room, when the door slammed shut behind him. He immediately rushed back to it, sword stick dropped forgotten on the floor._

_"Hey...HEY! This isn't funny. Let me out!" He rattled the door handle and his fear increased slightly as it didn't budge._

_"Mike?..Scarlett?...PAUL?" James shouted. He froze as he saw a dark shape moving on the door. The spider crawled down towards his hand and he jumped back, tripping as he did so. His hand connected with some planks of wood that were stood against the wall. He screamed as a big, brown spider scuttled across his leg and he could see where he'd dislodged more, another five leaving the wood pile and heading in different directions._

_"LET ME OUT!" he shouted, unable to keep the fear from his voice. He started to pound on the door, the spider he had seen there forgotten. He could hear talking outside and he was sure he heard Mike laugh. Paul was saying something but James couldn't make out what it was. Scarlett was saying something too and she sounded angry._

_"Please? Let me out. I'm...There's spiders in here. Loads of them. As big as my hand." He'd noticed three more while he was saying this to them._

_"I HATE YOU ALL! OPEN THE DOOR" James didn't care if they heard the break in his voice any more, he just wanted to get out of the arachnid ridden shed and go home. He heard Scarlett reply;_

_"It was Mike, he's run away. Me and Paul can't get the door open James" His panic increased tenfold and he started to cry._

_"I don't like it in here Scarlett. I want to get out, can't you break the door down?"_

_"No. I'm-"_

_"You're not. Not really a princess, just try."_

_"I can't James. Paul's gone to get an adult." James sat down on the floor. It was then that he noticed the huge spider in the corner of the room. James was convinced it was a tarantula, like he'd read about in his animal book. He'd thought they were cool before. But pictures in a book were different to the real thing._

_"There's-There's a tarantula in here Scarlett. I-Its gonna eat me!"_

_"Don't be stupid James, you only get tarantula's in zoo's"_

_"Na-uh, you get them in sheds as well, I'm looking at one."_

_"It doesn't matter, Paul's back with your mum."James stood up again, shuddering as the spider in the corner moved closer to him._

_"MUM!"_

_"Hang on James, just hang on a minute, we'll get you out."_

 

_Five minutes later, James was in his mother's embrace, covered in dirt, dust and cobwebs. There was a graze on his hand and elbow where he'd tripped and he was crying unabashedly._

_"Shush now baby. Its ok." James rubbed his eye and nodded as his mother carried him back to their house, with Scarlett and Paul following behind. Between hiccuping sobs, James recounted the story to his parents while his mother made juice for them all._

 

_Three days later when Mike mysteriously acquired a bruise on his face while they were out playing, none of the children would say how it'd happened. And if Mrs Hathaway guessed, her son went unpunished._

 

*************************************************

 

Lewis gives a low whistle as James finishes telling the story.

"How old were you Jim?"

"...Eight."

"Can imagine that was pretty scary, certainly goes some way to explaining things any how."

"Yeah...So now you know sir. I really don't like them."

"I can see that kidda. What happened to Mike?"

"He stopped coming to visit. I think Scarlett might have scared him off. If me trying to bash his head off didn't already do that." Lewis takes all this in and he feels almost sad for the little eight year old Hathaway that he never knew. A thought occurs to him.

"Are you scared of sheds then?" James rolls his eyes.

"No. Only the spiders in them."

"...I was only asking" Lewis says, grinning. "I dunno about you lad, but I could do with some kip." James gets off the sofa.

"Honestly sir, would you prefer the bed? The sofa really isn't that comfortable and what with your back..."

"You're not going to let this drop until I cave in are you?" James shakes his head, a smirk on his face.

"You wouldn't either if you had to listen to you moaning about your back all day at work." Robbie chuckles.

"Point taken James, point taken. Thank you."

"No problem sir" he says and they say their goodnights.

 

Before he falls asleep, James wonders if DI Knox would ever have removed a spider for him like Lewis did without being asked. He very much doubts it, he had never asked Knox back to his flat.

 

Robbie lies awake remembering his Lyn waking him up at three in the morning to get a spider out of her room. He remembers that he couldn't find it and he'd only pretended to catch it in order to put her mind at rest. That had come back to bite him in the arse when it had been found the next morning the wall above Val's head.

 

He rather suspects that James would have screamed louder than Val did.  


	17. Laura's Lecture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not having a pop at anyone that shares Hathaway's lifestyle choices, I just think that Robbie and Laura would be worried about him, and try to do something about it.

Hathaway leaned back in the chair, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket. He tapped the tip of it on the side of the box, before putting it in his mouth and lighting it smoothly.

Lewis looked up from his pint with a barely suppressed frown, and Laura glared at him. James was oblivious, eyes closed in bliss.

"Its just a relief of withdrawal symptoms you know." Laura was staring at him, and this time, he saw it.

"What?"

"That happy feeling you're getting, its just your body getting a break from the cravings."

"I'm aware of that doctor. People have been telling me that since I was fifteen."

"Doesn't it worry you?" Lewis watched the verbal fencing, aware that Laura was fighting a losing battle, he'd told James about smoking enough times, the younger man paid him no heed. Either way, he's not getting involved.

"Doesn't what worry me Laura?", James replies, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"What you're doing to yourself. You must know how bad that is for you." She jabs a finger towards the cigarette in his mouth and James sighs.

"Yes I do know. And no. It doesn't worry me. Look at the job I do. Could get shot, stabbed, kidnapped, anything. A ciggie is the last thing I've got to deal with."

"Yes, but you won't be doing this job forever James. One day, you're going to be sixty odd, and retired. If you make it that far. And the way you're going, _if_ you do make it to sixty, you're not going to be able to walk more than ten feet without needing to stop for breath." He starts to interrupt her but she cuts him off.

"That's assuming that you're not stuck in your house, hooked up to an oxygen tank." James' mouth thins and sets in a line.

"Its a chance I'll have to take then isn't it? I have tried to give up before you know Laura. I've tried just going cold turkey, I've tried those self help tapes, hell I've even tried that bloody chewing gum. And I hate chewing gum!"

"James-" Lewis says, in an attempt to defuse the rapidly escalating situation, but he is stopped by James.

"Leave it. Look, I appreciate that you care, really I do. But you're not my bloody mother Laura! I'm big enough to make my own bloody decisions, this is one of them." Hathaway drained his glass and left, leaving Robbie and Laura sat in the beer garden.

 

"So...that went well", Lewis says carefully.

"Bloody idiot." She shakes her head, "Why didn't you say anything Robbie? He'd listen to you." Robbie snorts incredulously.

"Me? Laura, where have you been? He never bloody listens to me, not about stuff like that. We've had this conversation so many times that I can't count. At the end of the day, he's a grown man." Laura turns to look at him, disapproval on her face.

"Robbie, I've seen an inordinate amount of smokers corpses. I do not want our James going the same way."

"I know, I know. Neither do I, but what can ya do? He's thirty three not fifteen." Laura sighs. Then an idea forms into her head.

"You still working on that suspicious death in Thrupp, or did it get given to Grainger?"

"Nah, still ours to puzzle over. The smoking, gambling, drinking thug. I'd have thought everyone wanted to do him in."

"Right. So I'm showing you the post mortem then?

"Yep, 'Fraid so"

They stay there for a little while, finishing their drinks, and then they leave. Lewis has a feeling that Laura is planning something, but he doesn't know what. He should warn James really, that's what friends are for. But then again, friends save each others lives and maybe, just maybe, they'd manage to save James'.

 

***********************************************

 

The next day, they are both sat in the office. Conversation hasn't really been flowing. Suddenly James looks up decisively.

"I'm sorry sir, about yesterday." Lewis starts to tell him that its not really Lewis that James should be apologising too, but his phone rings. Laura.

"Hello doctor."

"Lewis. Got your post mortem ready. I need you down here, quick as."

"Ok, give us twenty minutes". He looks at James.

"We're needed down at the morgue."

 

Twenty-three minutes later, they are both stood in Laura's lab, staring down at the corpse of Mr Gerald Fisher, late of this parish.

"As you can see gentlemen, he wasn't in the best of health. Drank, smoked and poisoned his body on regular occasions." James is looking slightly sick, and even Lewis is looking less than comfortable.

"He was stabbed, in the liver and stomach around 3 or 4 times, its hard to be sure. That was the cause of death. He bled out internally as well as externally, wouldn't have taken long. The head wound was probably caused by him falling over, due to feeling woozy and light-headed as a result of blood loss." Lewis sighs.

"Doctor, you told us all this at the scene, what is the point of this little excersise." Hobson grins, and its not a happy one. Its a grim, evil grin and suddenly, both Lewis and Hathaway feel uncomfortable.

"The point inspector is organs."

"Organs?" James says, swallowing.

"Organs indeed." Laura pulls a cloth off a nearby trolley and reveals a heart, liver and lungs on the table.

"His heart, funnily enough, wasn't in that bad shape considering his lifestyle, still had a good few years in it." She pokes the stomach liver with the blunt end of her scalpel. "Apart from the stab wounds, this was ok, although the drink was taking its toll." Lewis sighed, he knew where this was going now. Laura beckoned to Hathaway.  
"Come here sergeant"

"I can see fine from here Doctor." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Here, now!" James actually looks shocked, Lewis suppresses a grin. But Hathaway does indeed stand next to Laura, trying not to look at the trolley.

"What's that sergeant?" Laura asks, pointing at a lump of black flesh. James gives it a cursory glance, before speaking.

"I dunno, I was never very good at anatomy at school." Laura frowns.

"I do not believe you James, but I will enlighten you nonetheless. That, is a pair of lungs. You will observe that they are black and the edges are frayed slightly." James nods slightly.

"Yes. Don't look all that good."

"That James, is because they aren't. They are the lungs of a smoker." He rolls his eyes, and Robbie can't help but look in horrified fascination.

"Laura-" James starts. She stops him. Laura strips off her gloves, standing away from the trolley. She splays her hand across his chest gently and quietly addresses him.

"Your lungs James, they probably look something like that." He swallows again and looks at the lungs lying on the trolley.

"You only get one pair James, and they can let you down at the drop of a hat. You're on a slippery slope to oxygen dependence, emphysema and lung cancer. I just thought you should know. See it for yourself."

"I appreciate your concern Laura but-"

"James, I'm not doing this because I'm trying to mother you, or harass you. Robbie doesn't nag you about it because he wants to make life difficult."

"Then why?"

"Are you really that stupid James? Smoking kills, slowly and silently and I see this 50% of the time I open up a corpse. We go on at you James, because you are a good friend and..." James just stares at her, unused to the gentle, sad voice she's using.

"Dammit James, we don't want to lose you." James is speechless and Robbie would find it funny if there wasn't water in his sergeant's eyes. He really didn't think that they would be concerned for his health. Time for Robbie himself to make some contribution.

"James, all we're asking, is for you to look at those lungs there, and just...just try again to give up. For us lad, if not for yourself?" James does nothing for a few minutes, except stare at the damaged organs in front of him. Then he nods silently. Laura smiles softly and Lewis pats him on the back.

"Come on kidda, we'll go get some lunch eh? Coming Laura?"

 

***********************************************

 

Three weeks later and James is doing well, he's only had two cigarettes in those 21 days. He has to admit, albeit grudgingly, that he does feel healthier in himself. His breathing is better, and he hadn't even noticed that it'd got worse.

 

He's grateful to Laura Hobson for managing to scare him shitless enough to take action. He knows what his life could have ended like, and how much shorter it could have been.

 

He'll never give her the satisfaction of knowing that though. He knows she'd milk it to the highest degree.


	18. Memory Box

In Hathaway's spare room, there was a box.

Its an unassuming box, plain cardboard, coming up to his knee. The word ' _Privit_ ' is written across the side in a childish, messy scrawl, the words.; _'James' box, keep owt'_ written equally messily underneath. The top bears the message 'Fragile', written in a much neater hand, its owner has obviously learnt to spell since writing his declaration of box ownership.

It was a box of things that he held close, things that meant something to him. His comfort blanket from when he was a baby. A toy car, that he'd dropped from the top of the folly once, when Father Michael had taken him and Paul up there after their persistent begging. When he looks at that car, he can remember seeing the estate spread before him and thinking to himself that he'd get out from the shadow of the big house, make it in the big wide world.

There's an essay he wrote aged 11, the first one he got full marks for. It reminds him of what he used to be, of how much he used to care.

There's an 18th birthday card from his aunt, given to him three weeks before she died. She was one of the only people that ever believed in him. Despite losing her faith, she'd never discouraged his, being happy for him when he told her he was going to join the seminary.

After that card, James hadn't put anything else in his box. Nothing much seemed to be worthy of going in.

Until three days after his twenty eighth birthday.

He'd been sent to the airport that day, somewhat reluctantly. Now when he looks back, he can't imagine what his life would have been like had he not gone. It would be lacking so many things; purpose, meaning. More than that, he'd be lacking a best friend. The man he met that day, has no idea how much of an impact he has had on James' life, no idea how many times a kind word saved him from doing something stupid, how many times a gentle hand on his arm kept the panic down.

Now, tucked down the side of his box, there is a large piece of card, baring a single word. A single word that encapsulates that trip to the airport perfectly. 5 simple letters, the middle one more decorative than the others. Five simple letters, that signify to James that someone out there is rooting for him, that someone cares.


	19. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This deals with the canon in Dead Of Winter, and therefore the death of a child.

"I..I've found her sir."

"Her? James?"

"The girl...the girl Zelinksy kidnapped. I found h-her"

"That's brilliant. Good lad."

"It...it isn't sir."

"What?"

"It isn't brilliant sir."

"James? James are you ok?" There was no answer, just a click as Hathaway's phone had ended the call. Robbie would later learn that the call had ended because James' phone had slid out of his grasp and crashed onto the cold stone floor of the patio.

 

*******************************************

 

Robbie arrived at the scene and parked his car in some available space a few streets. The area outside the house was swarming with grim faced SOCO's and uniformed constables. He couldn't see James anyway, and God knows he stood head and shoulders above the rest of his colleagues.

 

He hurriedly asks passing officers if they've seen Hathaway, but no one gives him an answer. He's told that Dr Hobson is waiting for him upstairs, and he goes to her, trusting James to be doing something worthwhile.

"Laura?"

"Its not pretty Robbie, its really not." He stares at the girls body as Laura outlines her injuries. She's been here for a few days, and the smell advertises this to all in the room. He almost feels that he can't tear his gaze away, but he does, looking up to see Laura's slightly watery eyes looking into his own. This is going to be a tough case for all concerned.

"Where's Hathaway? He's normally here before you."

"He was" Robbie says quietly, as the implications of the phone call he received from James earlier sink in. "Oh God Laura...he found her."

"Go and find him Robbie, I'll give you the report later. Go and find James." Just then, a young constable knocks uncertainly on the door.

"Sir? Sergeant Hathaway is in the garden, says he's found some evidence." Robbie nods and dismisses the youngster, before taking a deep breath and heading towards his sergeant.

 

*******************************************

 

James is stood by a small hole in the ground, staring at it like its the most interesting thing in the world. He snaps his head up as Robbie walks towards him, and starts speaking before Robbie has a chance.

"There's tool marks over there and there," he says calmly, pointing at marks in the grass that suggest a rake or shovel has been stood up in the soft ground recently. "Been no rain so...so its all well preserved."

"James..." Lewis starts, but Hathaway presses on.

"I've got forensics looking through the garage for a shovel or something. They can get fingerprints. It'll have traces of blood on it as well. I think it was in the attic before...just before. And then he carried it down...downstairs after he'd used it to..." James coughs and looks away. His face hardens and he carries on with his report in a monotonous tone, as if he was reading a weather report.

"There's the starts of a grave here, doesn't look like he'd made much progress before we arrested him. At that garden centre. That could be why he hadn't finished. There's um, there's no over looking properties, so its unlikely anyone saw anything. And no one will have heard anything sir would they?" Robbie can see that James is starting to lose his cool a bit and his heart aches for the young man in front of him.

"James..." He tries again, and again, Hathaway keeps talking.

"No one will have heard anything will they sir? Because he'd have been quiet about it and she...and the girl...she couldn't have made any noise sir, because she was dead." He stops then, nothing more to say it seems. To anyone else, James would look the embodiment of calm and collected right now. But Lewis isn't just anyone else, he's worked with James for 5 years now and he knows what to look for. The way that James keeps swallowing, as if he's containing the words that he wants to say. The way his jaw is working, chewing the inside of his cheek to give him something else to focus on. At any other crime scene, James would have his moment of contemplation, and then he'd be off, carrying out his duties like his usual professional self. But he's not here. He's simply stood there,like he can't remember what he should be doing, staring at the beginnings of a shallow grave like he wants nothing more than for it to swallow him up. But Hathaway won't fall apart here, not with his colleagues so close by. Lewis knows what will happen; James will hold it in all day, making out that he's fine. And then the young man will take himself off home tonight, have a few strong drinks and then stamp his emotions down until they are buried.

 

But that won't do. Because Lewis knows that this won't go away. He's seen the body, and he knows that James was here alone when he found her, when he saw that. He'd bet money that James just stood there looking, unable to look away.

 

Robbie puts a hand on his shoulder gently.

"Come on lad. Lets get you out of here eh, somewhere warm."

"I'm..."

"James...humour me eh?" Hathaway nods reluctantly and follows him as they walk the few streets to Robbie's car.

 

*******************************************

 

Robbie only turned his back for a few seconds. It was only the amount of time it took for him to bend into his car and chuck the papers onto the back seat so James could sit shotgun. But it was enough for James to seemingly disappear from sight. He was just about to head back to the crime scene, in case James had gone back for something, when he heard a soft sound from the passenger side of the car.

Crossing around the front, he saw his young sergeant, sat in the road with his back against the car door, hands pressed into his eyes and elbows resting on drawn up knees. It seemed that once they were away from prying eyes, James had crumpled. The sitting on the road was probably a futile attempt to hide his weakness from Robbie as well. Well Lewis wasn't having it, Hathaway needed him now.

"James kidda. Are you alright?" Hathaway shook his head, staying in the awkward position he was sat in.

"No. Sir how could-?...How do I even-?" Robbie sighed sadly and crouched down to the younger man. He knew the questions, he asked them himself often enough. _Sir how could someone do that? How do I even begin to deal with it?_ Robbie would have asked Morse over and over again, on multiple cases if he'd thought his inspector would have been able to give him an answer.

"Some people James, they just...do things. They aren't thinking, or they believe they are right."

"But..she was only six fucking years old." James takes a deep shuddering breath and continues. "She..she had a teddy bear with her...in...in the cistern, all grubby and, it...she was still clutching it and-" He stopped short and Robbie saw the horror in Hathaway's eyes as he watched his sergeant replaying the moment he found her in his head. Lewis doesn't have the answers to this one, doesn't know what to say, James is a tricky bugger to fathom at the best of times it has to be said. So Robbie just puts a comforting arm on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze, before pulling gently at the younger man's arm.

"Come on kidda, lets get you out of the road. Not a safe place to be sitting mate." James lets himself be guided to the kerb and sits down there, Robbie at his side, shoulders touching in an attempt at support.

Before long, James starts taking deep breaths, trying to control himself as he stares ahead of him unseeing anything in the real world, instead seeing a child's body, packed into a water cistern. Lewis realises that James is crying before James himself does. Every exhale shakes and the air catches in the younger man's throat. Lewis lays a hand on James' back and gently rubs circles on it, trying to provide some comfort.

"Let it all out Jim lad. There's no one here. Its ok, you'll be alright, just let it out mate"

 

With a strangled half sob, James does.

 

*******************************************

 

Once James tears have dried out, Lewis drives them both silently back to the station, where he instructs James to wait in the car while he goes to talk to Innocent. It worries him slightly that James doesn't protest. Doesn't really do anything.

Jean is very understanding when he explains that he wants to take James home, and Robbie suspects that Laura called her in an attempt to warn her about James' possible state of mind. In any case, Robbie is grateful, because Jean fully agrees with his plan.

 

He takes drives them both to his own flat and gets James sitting on his sofa, a blanket around his shoulders. It hits him how bloody young the boy looks, shrinking under the cloth as if it'll protect him from the world.

He disappears into the kitchen once he's sure James is going to stay sat on the sofa, and makes them both a cup of tea. Puts three sugars in James', two more than normal, but he knows it'll do the boy good. He knows what else might help, but he's undecided for the moment whether it'll be of any use.

One look at Hathaway's shaking hands as he reaches for the tea and the quietly whispered 'thank you' that he gets, decides for him. He goes back into the kitchen and returns with a small shot glass of scotch.

"Sir?" James says quietly.

"Just the one James. You got that?"

"Yes sir." They sit in silence for a bout an hour, before James falls asleep on the sofa where he is sat, fingers buried in the blanket, all his limbs drawn in as close as they can be. Robbie eases a cushion under his head, and tucks the blanket around him as best he can, before going to his own room.

 

Lewis is there for him when he wakes screaming, in the middle of the night, bringing James back to himself and plying him with more sweet tea until the man goes back to sleep. He listens as James stutters out the events of the morning, encouraging the younger man to tell him what happened. He knows that James will feel better for telling someone else.

 

He wakes up in the morning to James sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with only a slight tremor in his hands.

"Checking it works sir. I er...I dropped it after I phoned you yesterday, can hardly remember doing it" The kettle pings to let them know that it has finished boiling. James gives him a ghost of a smile.

"I though it was about time _I_ made _you_ some tea sir." He mumbles as he goes to the kitchen.

 

Robbie knows that he's on the mend. He'll dream about this for a long time, the images flashing through his head when he least expects them, just as Mary Lapsley had haunted Morse.

 

And if he crumbles again...well Lewis will drive him home, give him tea and scotch and listen to anything the younger man wants to say.

 

And perhaps one day, James' memory of the horror, will be softened by the knowledge that the man who did it is staring at the same brick wall day after day.


	20. Tis But A Scratch

There was a loud noise in the corridor, and Jean stuck her head out of her office to see what all the commotion was about. She didn't have to look far.

Robbie and James had come back to the station, triumphant grins on their faces, and the suspect firmly held between them. The man was screaming profanities at the two of them, but it didn't seem to dampen their spirits.

"Bastard posh copper!" The man spat, "I should have thrown you from the fucking roof."

"Yeah well," James countered easily. "Now I'm going to throw you in a cell, so we're all square aren't we?" James walked away with the culprit, as Robbie stayed to brief Innocent on what went on.

"Well done Lewis, good arrest." Robbie shrugged, looking down the corridor after his sergeant's disappearing back.

"I didn't really do much. It was James that caught him. You should have seen it Jean, Jim flew after him like nothing else." It didn't surprise her, James had been determined to catch him after he'd assaulted an elderly lady.

"Well as long as there wasn't too much violence. I can't have an allegation of police brutality, no matter how much we wanted Turner in custody." Lewis smiled at her.

"I'm sure James behaved impeccably ma'am." She rolled her eyes at the inspector, Lewis and Hathaway could be as cheeky as ever when they wanted to be. She'd seen Turner when they brought him in, there was no obvious bruising. Still, it wouldn't hurt to remind the man who was boss.

"You just keep him on the straight and narrow Lewis, the last thing we want is your northern-ness influencing that nice young man" She grinned at Robbie's mildly offended expression and walked back to her office, the mutterings of "James? Nice?" following behind her.

 

*******************************************************

 

Unfortunately, Michael Turner had accused Hathaway of 'police fucking brutality', and she had no choice but to call her the quiet young sergeant into her office.

"Ma'am," James said as he knocked lightly on the door. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Is Robbie with you?"

"Julie said nothing about him coming, shall I get him?"

"No sergeant. I have a feeling this meeting will only be a short one, and I doubt Robbie will be helpful."

"Ma'am" James replied warily, unsure what was expected of him. Innocent took a breath and gestured for him to sit down.

"Turner has made accusations of police brutality against you Hathaway." James immediately sat forward, anger on his face. She held up a hand to stop him. "Now I don't believe them at all, but I have to investigate." She truly didn't believe Turner. Ignoring the fact that he was a lying scumbag, Hathaway's reaction had convinced her. He wasn't the kind of man that would try to lie his way out of it. No, James would own up, and then try to justify his actions. He had, many a time. _It seemed like the right psychology_. He was a complicated, and unpredictable young man, but he wasn't a dishonest one.

"Ma'am. I can assure you, that I used exactly as much force as necessary, maybe too little in fact. But I did not do anything that violates the PACE act. Of course, if you need to suspend me-" At that moment, Jean's secretary walked in the a tray of tea that Jean had asked for ten minutes previously. Se smiled to herself as she realised that there was a mug there for James too; She had a sneaking suspicion that her secretary had the hots for the young, blond sergeant.

Her thoughts were cut off as the secretary tripped and nearly spilt the drinks all over her desk. It would have happened, but for James throwing his weight against the chair and grabbing the tray as he moved backwards.

"Oh I'm..s-sorry. Thank you."

"No problem," James said graciously as the secretary took the tray from him and set it down properly. Jean would have found her stuttering sweet, but something that she had heard just then had worried her. She waited until the secretary had left before speaking.

"James, are you sure there was no violence?" He cocked his head at her, looking slightly hurt and confused.

"No ma'am. I acted well within regulations, nothing untoward-" Jean sighed mentally. The man was like a closed book. It'd take a crowbar to prise him open enough to get some feelings out of him sometimes. Luckily, she was known for her ability to coax answers from people.

"James, Melanie might have been too dazzled by you to hear it, but I wasn't." Hathaway now looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Jean knew she was onto something.

"I d-don't know what you mean ma'am."

"I heard you hiss when you hit that chair. Did Turner hit your back?"

"No Ma'am."

"...Sergeant."

"Ma'am, I can categorically state that Turner did not hit me anywhere apart from my left arm and a swing at my face, that fortunately missed." She didn't accept that for a minute. Innocent had seen the look of pain that had crossed his features as he'd moved, and she'd heard the hiss that he'd thought the noise of the crockery had covered up.

"So why do you have pain on your back. Do NOT deny it sergeant." Her tone of voice brooked no argument and he shrugged.

"It just hurts, its nothing, all part of an arrest." Jean inwardly counted to ten. Hathaway could infuriate and worry her in equal measure too easily.

"Show me Hathaway."

"Ma'am I-"

"As your superior officer, I have a duty of care to you James. And since you clearly haven't told Robbie, you're going to have to tell me." He hangs his head and then stands up slowly. Hathaway unbuttons the bottom of his shirt, and barely suppresses a shudder as the fabric moves against the injury. Jean gasps.

"I thought you said he didn't hit you!"

"He didn't, not technically. If we're being precise, _I_ , hit the side of the Bodlean."

"Have you seen this? You've taken the skin off the lower left of your back. Christ, there are chips from the wall in here James." He shrugs for the second time.

"We got Turner, this isn't important."

"Sergeant Hathaway! That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Stay where you are" She leaves the office for a few minutes, and James desperately hopes that she isn't going to go and get Lewis. One lecture is bad enough, and he knows Lewis will go ape-shit if he realises that James hid the fact he got hurt, even if its only minor.

When Jean returns, she is carrying a small green box.

"Shirt back up James." He realises its a first aid box and ignores her request.

"I'll be-"

"-Hathaway, I don't believe you. You never even told Robbie you were hurt. And that needs to be cleaned up." James finds that he's lost the fight, and reluctantly pulls his shirt up again. He quietly allows Jean to wash the wound out, and to put antiseptic cream on it (which stings like hell and reminds him of many scraped knees in his childhood). He accepts it all without fuss though. Because, under the annoyance that no one can see how minor this is, and the embarrassment of having his boss see a weakness, he feels a strange sort of comfort at being taken care of.

Once she was done, and he had a wound gauze on his back (he's not going to admit that his eyes widened when Jean took the biggest size out of the pack,) he stood up, testing the stretch of his skin.

"Thank you Jean." Her frown softened a little.

"James, I shouldn't have to insist that you get medical help if you get injured. And you shouldn't feel like you can't tell anyone. What if it had been something more serious? Like a head injury. You could have passed out at home later and none of us would even know that we needed to worry."

"I don't want you to worry."

"What do you think it would do to Laura and I if you got seriously ill from something like that and we didn't help? What do you think it'd do to Robbie if he had no idea you were hurting and then he finds you the next day, with no knowledge of what happened?" James hangs his head again, its beginning to be a habit.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't think..."

"I know. But do next time James please." She rested an arm on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I won't tell Robbie James, not if you don't want me to. But please, and I'm saying this as a friend now, not your boss, please tell us if you get hurt on the job again." He nods contritely.

"I will. I'm sorry." She nods now, satisfied that he means it.

"As for Turner, I don't believe a word of what he says, he's lucky I don't add assaulting a police officer to his charges....He did push you into the building didn't he?"

"Yes Ma'am." James replies quietly, clearly expecting another bollocking for not telling her that either.

"Well, he doesn't have a leg to stand on then does he? Go on James, back to the office. And tuck your shirt back in."

"Of course ma'am, an officer of the law must always look presentable." he says with a smirk and she's ninety percent sure that he just quoted the actual regulations at her.

"Get out sergeant." He goes, and she shakes her head fondly.

While James may be one of the cleverest and most resourceful officers in her station, sometimes, she thinks he's also one of the stupidest.

 


	21. Little Blue Bear

James Hathaway had had a crap couple of weeks. If pushed, he'd probably have gone as far as to say it was an absolutely fucking shite couple of weeks.

 

It had all started a fortnight ago, when there had been a murder in broad daylight on the high street. He and Lewis had been top of the rotation, and it had been their job to go and interview the people at the scene. It wasn't the violence that had got to him, although it had been a brutal attack. He's been a police officer for long enough now to have become somewhat hardened to violence and its effects.

What got to him was the witnesses that he had to interview. Some of them were in shock, which was perfectly understandable, given what they'd seen. One old lady had been shaking as they stood there, and before he'd realised what he was doing, he'd guided her into a chair and sent a uniformed officer to procure a milky, sugary cup of tea for her.

"I-I'm not sure what I saw sergeant."

"James. Its ok. Just tell me whatever you can remember."

"He was...he was wearing a red shirt I think. Y-yes, a read polo shirt and black jeans. He ran past me and-" She started to cry and James laid a hand on hers, trying to comfort her as best he could.

"That's been very helpful Mrs Kerr. Thank you. I'll ask this officer to get you home now. Is there anyone who can stay with you?"

"Yes, my daughter is at home."

"Ok, If you remember anything else, please let us know. And if you want to talk to someone, you can phone this number." he said as he handed her a card with the liason officer's number on it.

"Thank you sergeant, you've been very kind." He smiled at her as the uniformed officer lead her towards a car. Lewis came up behind him, and what he was feeling, must have shown on his face as his inspector bumped his elbow.

"She'll be alright you know. They all will James. You did a great job with her." Hathaway nodded but didn't answer. While he had been somewhat affected by the old lady, and the other witnesses that were dealing with various stages of shock; that wasn't what had got to him.

 

What had got to him, was the fact that he'd seen those same fearful, grief stricken eyes before. In his bathroom mirror. He shook himself as the memory of a cold and dusty attic surfaced, and clenched a fist as his mind taunted him, projecting images of his own hand opening the cistern. Just when he feared he wasn't strong enough to push the memories away this time, a hand gripped his elbow.

"Don't know about you Jim, but I could do with a cuppa." The smile came to his lips unbidden, as much from relief than the fact that he hadn't realised exactly how badly he wanted a cup of tea as well.

 

******************************************

 

The week after hadn't been any better. He and Lewis had been detailed to work on a sexual assault case, and the whole thing had him despairing at humanity. He'd tried and failed to understand how someone could do that to another human being. After a few hours of questioning their suspects, James was at the end of his tether. Lewis recognised this and all but dragged him out of the room, instructing him to try and calm down.

 

He'd never been so glad to see the back of a case. The night they finished that one, he'd had takeaway and copious amounts of beer at Lewis'.

The hangover he had in the morning did nothing to improve his mood.

 

******************************************

 

So it was no surprise that when he was given the task of looking after a child, whose only parent had just been arrested for violence, that James felt he wasn't up to the task.

"Sir...please, get someone else."

"There isn't anyone lad. Look, I know you were looking forward to band practice, but its only until her aunt shows comes down from Reading."

"-Its not that."

"What then? James?"

"These last two weeks have been a pile of crap sir. I'm done with it. I can't think about it any more. I just want to go home, drink a bottle of wine, and crawl under my bed covers." He paused, trying to work out what he was trying to say. "Sir...the state of mind I'm in, I am the last person that should be left with a child. Let alone one that just saw her father get arrested."

"I'm sorry kidda. Its either this or interview the father. Its down to us mate." He could see from Robbie's eyes that the older man was truly sorry that he had to be asked. And James knew that he just didn't have it in him to interview anyone. He sighed, running hand through his hair.

"Where's the kid sir?"

 

******************************************

 

The little girl in question didn't seem to be too phased by what was going on. Beyond finding out that her name was Ruby, and she was six years old, James hadn't really talked to her. A WPC had given Ruby some paper and colouring pencils and the child had happily started drawing a unicorn. From what James could see of it, the drawing was fairly good.

He was amusing himself (if one could use that word) by reading one of the kids novels left on the table in the room. So far, he'd spotted two spelling mistakes, one grammatical error and an example of poor printing in one chapter. But he wasn't really paying attention, his mind was running through everything he'd seen in the last fortnight, and he was being highly unsuccessful at pushing it all away. It wouldn't do to have the kid pick up on his feelings. He was supposed to be a calming influence, not that young Ruby looked like she needed it. Then again, James remembers all to well how easy it had been for him to look like a happy six year old, when in truth, he was far from it.

 

"...book?" He jerked his head up as he registered Ruby's voice.

"Sorry, what did you say?" The kid sighed slightly, coming closer to him.

"I said, are you reading a sad book?" James did a double take, he could barely remember what the last page was even about, it was a distraction, he wasn't paying attention to the plot.

"No, its not sad. Its quite a happy book." _I think_. "Why do you ask? Would you like to read it?"

"No thank you Mister policeman." She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, before looking up at him earnestly. "If the book is a happy one, why are you sad?"

"W-What?" James blinked, he got the distinct feeling, that he was being psychoanalysed by a six year old.

"Why are you so sad? You look sad." She put her small hand on the seat next to him and hauled herself beside him. "You're a nice policeman. I don't want you to be sad." James smiled at her as best he could manage.

"I'm not sad Ruby. I'm fine. I've just had a tough couple of weeks."

"You're lying mister. You aren't fine." She wanders back over to her small rucksack and pulls something from it, before walking back over to him.

"Here. This is Mr Bear. I think you should have him, he's good at making people feel better." James looks down at the small blue bear that has been pressed into his hand. The fur is soft and he can't help but run his thumb down the bears belly. Even as he looked down at it, he knew he couldn't accept this bear though. He might be many things, but he was not going to take a little girl's bear, just for his own selfish need.

"That's very sweet of you Ruby, but I'm sure Mr Bear will be happier with you."

"No, he wants to go with you mister-...what's your name?"

"Serg- James. My name is James."

"James," The little girl repeated, before fixing him with what she clearly thought was an assertive stare. "Mr Bear likes you and he wants to stay with you."

"Ok, we'll see when your aunt gets here shall we," James said, even though he had no intention of keeping the little girl's toy.

 

Sure enough, when Ruby's aunt came to collect her, Mr Bear had 'magically' found hi way back into Ruby's rucksack.

 

******************************************

 

Four days later, Lewis came into the office with a small parcel addressed to Hathaway.

"This was waiting for you at front desk. You didn't mention expecting anything."

"I'm not expecting anything...I don't know what that could be."

"Well, its yours, whatever it is," Lewis said, as he handed the parcel to James and sat down at his own desk. James put it to one side, a break in their latest case diverting his curiosity for the time being.

 

If Robbie was surprised by the smile that lit James' face an hour later as he opened the parcel, and read the note that accompanied it, he didn't say anything.

 

One day, he'd get Hathaway to tell him what was so special about the little blue bear that now lived on the shelf by his desk. But for now, he was content for the little toy just to make James happy as it watched him work.  


	22. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a crossover of sorts, because the first half is set in the early eighties. I don't know how well it fits in with Morse and Lewis canon, but still.

_Morse groaned. Damn these big bloody country estates. And damn armed robbers that go to ground in them._

 

_A gang of armed robbers had run into the grounds and hidden. They'd shot a young girl cashier and one of the coppers that was sent in to apprehend them. As it was, they were sat in the estate managers house. The estate manager was no-where to be seen, but his wife, who had just made tea for the cops invading her living room, informed him that her husband was up at the Mortmaigne's house. Morse got the distinct feeling that he was there often._

_"You're on your own in the house then Mrs...?"_

_"Josephine please inspector."_

_"You're on your own in the house then Josephine?"_

_"No, my son is out the back playing. He's four."_

_"Ah. I would advise that you bring him inside. The men we are hunting are not the most principled." Morse felt uneasy about the idea of a young boy outside alone with a gang of armed men running around. No, it'd definitely be safer for the child to be in the house, with his mother. She evidently agreed because she immediately got up and headed towards the back door. He sat, observing the furnishings of the house, a strange sense of unease prickling at the back of his neck. Typically, when the police turned up at a house, the kids were the first in the room, asking annoying questions and being awestruck by the presence of coppers in the house. Yet the boy had stayed away, and he surely couldn't have missed the sirens and flashing lights._

 

_His fears were confirmed when the lady of the house came rushing back in, wringing her hands frantically._

_"He's gone inspector, no trace of him!" He bade her calm down and then signalled to the uniformed copper stood anxiously by the door._

_"Do a quick sweep of the area constable, he's only four, he couldn't have gone far." Josephine looks up to give him a sad smile._

_"You don't have kids do you Mr Morse, believe me, they can cover larger distances than you'd think."_

_"No, no I don't" Morse said sadly. "What does your son look like?"_

_"H-he's so high" she stutters, indicating about 3 foot with her hand. "He has short blond hair and blue eyes."_

_"His name? He might respond if the uniformed men can call his name as they are looking."_

_"J-James."_

_"Got that Constable?" Morse asks the uniformed man. He nods grimly and motions for a few more men to follow him. Morse didn't miss that grin look. That copper had been at the bank and he's seen these men in action. It's clear that he doesn't hold out much hope for the four year old's chances. Morse grimaces, where did this bloody idiot train? Number one rule when kids go missing: you don't show lack of hope in front of the parents. He glares at the retreating man's back. Amateur!_

 

_He's just about to attempt to calm the distressed mother down, when a uniformed copper bursts into the room._

_"Sir!" he says breathlessly, his Geordie accent thick with nerves and stress. "Our boys have picked them up, less than half a mile away." The lad looks slightly terrified, Morse wouldn't mind betting that it's his first big job like this._

_"Tell them to wait for me before making a move. Do they know about the missing boy?" The copper shakes his head._

_"What boy sir?"_

_"He went missing from here. Four years old. Let the lads know. And then I need you to come back here and sit with the mother." The copper nodded and jogged out._

_  
Two minutes later, he's back and he stands awkwardly in the doorway._

_"Er...shall ah make a brew sir?"_

_"Yes," These kids, no one teaches them to make decisions these days. He softens his glare though. This one is trying, and he hasn't done a bad job so far._

_"Ok Josephine, I'm going to leave you in the capable hands of constable....er?"_

_"Lewis sir. PC Robbie Lewis."_

_"Good lad. Just look after her ok?"_

_"Yes sir."_

 

_Fifteen minutes later and Morse is crouching in a bush, surrounded by uniformed policemen. Its a stand-off, the gang hiding in a similar place about 100 metres away. The chief inspector is getting frustrated. Its a stale mate and he hates them. Every minute that they were there, he and his men were in danger._

_Suddenly, he hears a crunch followed by a surprised gasp. Its only when the first gasp is followed by several more that it clicks in his head. The boy! Its not gasping, its crying. Morse looks over the top of the foliage, and sees the child wandering through the wood, clutching a blanket and sobbing quietly. At the same precise moment, he sees the gang leader look and notice the child too. It hits him that the man is planning to snatch the kid, and he urgently whispers to the two constables closet to him._

_"Covering fire, on my signal. And watch that kid, I don't want the shot going anywhere near him." They nod, and aims their sights over the boys head._

_"James?" the little boy looks around in shock, eyes wide._

_"What are you doing out here lad? Come on, come towards me, there's a good boy." Little James merely stares, frozen to the spot in fear._

_"I'm a policeman James", Morse says kindly but urgently, as he notices the gang leader making a move towards the child. It's obvious that the boy isn't going to move, he's clearly terrified. There's nothing for it._

_"NOW!" he shouts, running towards James, bullets flying overhead. He dives to the ground, pulling the four year old down with him._

 

_10 minutes later, and all the excitement has died down. Morse walks back towards the Hathaway's little cottage, James ensconced in his arms. The little boy is still crying and Morse doesn't know how to comfort him. He tries gently shushing him, tries simply asking him to stop crying. He could palm the kid off on one of the many policemen that are wandering around, but a tiny part of Morse is enchanted by the trusting little life that he's holding. For while he's crying, James has grabbed hold of Morse's shirt and he won't let go. The gruff old chief inspector is strangely moved by it._

 

_He returns to the house and is surprised to find young Lewis sitting on his own._

_"Where's Mrs Hathaway?"_

_"The doc had t'come and sedate her sir. She heard the gunshots and went hysterical."_

_"Ok then. Well, we have her son here, when she returns to the here and now. I only wish I knew how to stop the little sod crying." The young constable smiles and Morse knows that Lewis sees right through his gruff dismissal of the child._

_"I have two bairns sir, give him here." Morse walked over and Lewis firmly but gently forced the little boy to relinquish his grip on Morse's shirt._

 

_Morse sat back and watched as the uniformed man coaxed James to stop crying. Soon enough, little James was curled into PC Robbie Lewis' side, sniffling slightly and fighting sleep. Lewis' helmet was sitting on his knee and the young boy sleepily traced the badge on the front with his finger._

 

_Once he had learned that Morse would stay until Mrs Hathaway had recovered, Lewis immediately volunteered as well. The chief inspector thought that the young man would go far, he'd be an asset to CID. He was obviously adaptable, going from chasing criminals, to looking after terrified mothers, to calming young children with ease. Although the child bit seemed to come naturally._

 

_Morse looked up from the book he was reading and he couldn't help but smile. Both of them were asleep, Lewis' arm protectively cradling the child even while he slumbered. Mrs Hathaway emerged and gently removed little James from the tired young copper's arms, thanking Morse profusely for bringing her child back safe. She went to put James to bed, and Morse gently tapped Lewis' shoulder. He was acutely aware that all the other uniforms had left the scene and he wondered how this lad was going to get home to his own kids._

_"Come on lad, wake up" He watched almost fondly as the young Geordie stirred in confusion, snapping awake as he realised that the child was gone from his grasp. Morse stilled him, with a gentle hand on the shoulder._

_"The child is safe in bed constable, come on, I'll give you a lift home."_

 

*****************************************

 

Lewis has worked with James for 5 years before he recalls any of this. They are sitting in a pub that he'd often drank in with Morse. Although, thinking about it, he'd have to leave Oxford to find a pub that he hadn't drank in with Morse.

 

He wonders what Morse would have thought about James, what he'd have thought of the way the little scared four year old had grown up. He reckons that Hathaway and Morse would have bonded over hard childhoods, if nothing else. It certainly wasn't going to be religious beliefs, or love of Wagner. Would his former mentor be glad of James' chosen profession?

He feels an ache that he hasn't felt for a while. He hasn't thought of Morse in a while, not properly. Hathaway walks back to his their table, carrying two beers. Before Robbie has chance to say thanks, James has turned around and disappeared again. It worries Robbie a little. It was only a couple of hours ago, that he'd had to talk James out of handing in his resignation.

 

When James appears again a few minutes later, holding on to two whisker chasers, Robbie smiles. He fancies he can hear Morse's voice in his head;

_"You've got yourself a good boy there Lewis, you see that you look after him. Don't let him go the same way as me."_

Robbie promises the Morse in his head that he'll look after James, as the man in question sets the scotches on the table. He wonders if James remembers anything of that day back when he was a child. Considering what they've just learnt about Creavecour Hall, Robbie isn't sure that he should bring it up. After all, he's still unclear about how much Hathaway knew about what was going on.

 

As it turned out, he didn't have to bring it up at all. James did that himself, while sipping at his whiskey.

"That wasn't the first time that there has been that many police up at Creavecour you know sir?"

"No?" Lewis answers casually. He's aware that this might be James trying to tell him something important, and he doesn't want to make the lad clam up.

"My mother always used to tell me about the time that a gang of armed robbers used the grounds to er...go to ground, as it were and I wandered off. She said that a chief inspector found me and brought me back, while a young constable sat with her. " Relief flooding him that James didn't just tell him something horrible about his youth, Robbie smirked into his glass. James is always surprising him with his wit and knowledge, its Robbie's turn for a change.

"That must have been scary for you."

"S'pose, don't really remember it. Apparently I fell asleep on the constable."

"Aye, that you did."

"Mum said that he fell asleep t-" Lewis grinned. "Wait, how do you know?"

"1982 that was. PC Robbie Lewis, fresh into Oxford and scared shitless."

"You! I fell asleep on you?" James was incredulous.

"Yeah, and then I fell asleep on your armchair. Morse had to wake me up, gave me a lift home as well." James squirmed a little in embarrassment. Lewis' grin grew wider. "I promise James, you behaved impeccably." The younger man scowled at him.

"You might've mentioned it."

"I only just remembered." He paused, staring down into his drink. "You know, its funny really."

"What's funny sir?" James clearly thought Robbie was going to laugh at him, and he was quick to explain.

"That was the first time I met Morse. Properly talked with him like. The next was a few years later. I think we'd both forgotten that we'd met at Creavecour by then. But that second time, he took me on as his sergeant. And now here _we_ are. Me, the inspector for the little boy that caused our first meeting." James watches him, clearly unsure what to say.

"I...er..."

"He'd have liked you James. I really think he'd have liked you." James smiled warmly at him and settled back in his chair, looking out at the river.

Lewis followed suit, contemplating how strange it should be, that his past and his present should come crashing together in such a fashion. Sneaking a glance at the man he was beginning to see as a son, he thanked whatever was answerable that it had.


	23. Kindness of Strangers

Lewis was at his wits end. James had driven to Bristol to meet a man he'd been in university with, who said he had information. They were investigating the murder of two young women and the disappearance of a student from Oxford. James had informed Lewis that he was going to drive there via the sites that the bodies were found, to try and work out a possible route the killer sould have taken. Robbie had been a bit apprehensive about James going alone, but the younger man had shrugged him off with 'Harry was a mate, he's not going to do anything. If anyone should be scared, its him, especially if he's going to give me the name of the murderer and his associates.'. Robbie hadn't been happy about it at all, but nonetheless, James had left at half one that afternoon. It was now half ten at night. According to google maps (as he been shown by Hathaway) it should have taken James a little over two hours to get there, and another two to get back. Add another hour and a half for parking and meeting his friend, and checking out the dump sites, and that would have taken him to seven pm. Even adding an hour for traffic, and James should have been back two hours ago. Even if he was being waylaid, James would have let him know. He'd never knowingly make him worry.

Robbie had tried James' phone every half an hour, since the time he should have been back. Each of the four times, it had rung onto voicemail. At first, he'd just assumed that James was driving, but he knew that the younger man wouldn't ignore four missed calls. He'd pull over and return them as soon as he could. Ordinarily, Robbie wouldn't have been too worried yet, but he didn't really know who James was going to meet, and he knew how out of the way the body locations were.

Even so, there was nothing he could do for the moment, it had only been two hours. No matter how much she also cared for James, Innocent just couldn't spare the resources for a man that could just be in a pub, having lost track of time.

Robbie would just have to wait, and try and do some paperwork.

 

**********************************************

 

Maud and Fred Richardson were driving back from their son's house, after visiting him and their grandson. They had intended to leave earlier, but they'd lost track of time. And so it was that they were driving home in the dark at ten pm. They were trying to avoid the traffic, so they were using the back roads.

"Its going to be a cold one tonight Maud, did you put the heating on a timer?"

"Yes, it should have come on half an hour ago dear. It'll be nice and warm once we get home"

"40 years of marriage and you've never forgotten the heating yet."

"Oh shut up you old softie," Maud smiled as her husband drove them homeward. It started to snow and they were both grateful for the heating, both in their car, and waiting for them at home.

"I think a cup of tea is-" Maud broke off as she saw a car seemingly abandoned by the side of the road. Normally, she would have dismissed it as some kids playing, but something about this pricked her instincts. "Fred, love I think we should check that out." Fred slowed down a little as he got closer, but he was reluctant to stop.

"We've still got an hour and a half Maud dear, its probably just a stolen car some kids have abandoned."Maud was about to agree with her husband, until she saw a dark lump lying a few feet away from the front of the car as they drove past.

"Oh Fred, I'm sure there was a man lying near it. Turn around."

"It was probably just shadows dear."

"Maybe, but what if it wasn't? Its _snowing_ Fred, whoever it is will freeze." Despite his eagerness to get home, Fred Richardson was a kind man, and he wouldn't have forgiven himself if he'd driven away. As soon as it was safe, he turned his car around, and headed back towards the abandoned (or so he hoped) vehicle.

 

To their dismay, the lump by the side of the road was indeed a person. Calling for Maud to pick up the torch from the glove compartment, Fred hurried over to the prone form as fast at the ice and snow would allow. He bent down to the figure and turned him slightly, dislodging snowflakes from the short hair.

"What are you doing out here eh son? No place to be taking a nap" he joked, hoping in vain for a response. There was none forthcoming. He felt for a pulse as his wife shined the torch on them both.

"Is he..." Fred paused, willing there to be a pulse under his fingers. Thankfully, he felt one, although he was under no illusions that the young man was in a bad way.

"No" He breathed out in relief. "No he's alive Maud. I don't know how though." Now that the young man was illuminated in torch light, they could see the state he was in. His face was bruised and there were a few cuts peppered across his cheek. His lip was split, and he had the beginnings of a black eye. What was worrying the old man most though, was the hue of his skin. The young man was pale, almost blending in with the snow that had fallen around him. He was cold to touch, and when Fred pulled a hand away from his head, he was shocked to see some blood on his fingers. By the torchlight, he could see short blond hair that appeared to be matted with blood.

"Stay with him Maud, I'm going to see if we still have that blanket in the car."

 

**********************************************

 

Robbie tried James' mobile again, but either it was switched off, or it had no signal, because it wasn't even ringing any more.

"Where are you kidda?" He glanced at his watch; eleven o'clock. Right. Sod it. He got up and walked purposefully to Innocent's office.

 

Knocking on the door, he was relieved to find that there was no one already in there. Jean looked up straight away and she must have seen the worry on his face, because she gestured for him to sit down immediately.

"Robbie, what is it?"

"James ma'am. He was supposed to be back at seven."

"Traffic?"

"For three hours? Nah. You know him Jean, he'd have called the station to let them know. Or he'd have called me."

"And you're worried."

"Its not like him." Robbie ducked his head. "I've tried to call him five times now. The first four rang out, and now its not even ringing. Jean, something must have happened to him." Innocent sighed. "Technically, I can't do anything yet-" She held up a hand to stop the angry outburst that she knew would be coming. "-But, you are right, its very out of character for him. Go and find some officers that aren't doing anything and tell them James' route. Have them go and look for him Robbie."

"Thank you ma'am." Robbie bit back what he wanted to say; _If he's near Bristol, he's two hours away ma'am, we may not have that much time._ He didn't say it though. He knew Jean was doing everything that she could, he see how worried she was. It would be unfair to have a go at her.

He got up and after giving her a nod, he walked out to find some idle coppers.

 

**********************************************

 

Fred brought the picnic blanket back to his wife and the stricken young man. It wasn't much, but it would provide an extra layer, and he figured this kid could do with it. Kneeling down beside his wife, he tucked the blanket around the man.

"There you go lad, might keep you a bit warmer don't you think?" Still no response.

"What do we do Fred?" His wife asked. "There's no signal here, and we can't leave him to get help."

"I'm not sure. We definitely can't leave the poor young sod here, he'll freeze to death or someone will run him over."

"We've got to do something dear. Look at him, there's nothing to him as it is."

"Maybe we should wait a few more minutes, just to see if he comes round, and then we'll drive him into the nearest hospital."

"Five minutes then. He needs to be in hospital Fred. They need to be getting him warm, never mind anything else." Fred patted this young man's leg and elicited a sharp gasp from him. Looking down, he saw blood on the trousers. "Christ Maud, his leg is broken. Dammit, I should have checked. Go and get some thick sticks please. I'll try and splint it." He looks down at the man, who seems to be climbing into consciousness. "I'm sorry lad, I should have checked. How long have you been awake and in pain eh?" Maud heard this as she returned with a few thick sticks and rested a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"You're not in the army any more Fred, its ok to be out of practice." A pained groan splintered the moment and they both turned their attention to the young man lying next to them.

"Hello son. Its good to see you awake. I'm Fred, this is my wife Maud." The man starts trying to move and jars his leg, ripping a hoarse scream from his throat.

"No, don't do that. Can you tell me your name laddie?"

"J-James..." the man gasps out, and Fred smiles.

"Well James, it seems you've got yourself into a bit of bother. You've been hit on the head. Your right leg is broken, and you've been a bit beaten about. I'm going to put it in a makeshift splint. Ok?" James nods and Maud squeezes his shoulder.

"He used to be in the army James love, he knows what he's doing." Another nod, and Fred talks to him again.

"Sorry kiddo, we don't have any painkillers, so this is going to hurt."

"B-been shot...felt p-pain...jus' do it."

"Army?" James shakes his head slowly.

"P-police. Oxford...CID"

"Good lad. Right here we go." Quietly, he turns to his wife. "Give him your hand to squeeze Maud, and try to hold him down if he moves too much." The old lady shuffled so that she was by James' head, and then took his hand, before resting his head on her knee to support him.

"Don't you worry about my fingers love. You squeeze them as hard as you need to."

"Might r-regret....saying th-that" James says with a small, pained chuckle.

"Nah, you ready?"

"Y-yeah."

As gentle as Fred tries to be, James is soon holding onto Maud's hand as though his life depended on it. As he starts to try and take deep breaths, he realises that his chest hurts. Fred notices and stops what he's doing.

"Does breathing hurt James?"

"Mmmm...Deep b-breaths...a lot."

"I think you've got a few cracked ribs lad. Let me check after I'm done with this leg of yours. Try to keep calm."

James grunts in pain as Fred jostles his leg a little, but he doesn't cry out again, instead he just clings to Maud's hand . He tries to use the pain in his chest as a distraction, but it doesn't work, he's not sure what hurts more, his leg of his ribs.

It soon comes to his attention that his leg is immobilised. He also realises how cold he is, unconsciousness and adrenaline keeping it at bay until that moment. He shivers violently and whimpers as it aggravates the pain in his ribs.

"I know James, I know. It'll be ok love," Maud soothes, with little success. Fred carefully feels along James' ribs, until he identifies which ones are damaged.

"I don't think they're out of place, just cracked. They won't be stabbing through your lungs any time soon. But we need to get you to a hospital my boy." James shakes his head.

"N-not hospital...need to...phone my boss...H-he'll come and p-pick m-me up."

"James son, you've got a head injury, a broken leg, and cracked ribs."

"B-be fine...not that bad...need...get back t'work...reports t'write." Fred shakes his head, and then something occurs to him. The boy is probably bordering on hypothermia, assuming he's not suffering from it already. It would account for the confusion and disorientation he's showing. And the aforementioned head injury isn't going to be helping.

"Maud dear, could you try and warm him up? Hug him close, but watch his ribs. And keep him talking. I need to check his head wound, but I don't want to alarm the poor bloke. We need to try and keep him awake I think."

"Of course I can." She looks down at James. "Well now love, why don't you tell me about yourself eh?"

"D-don't wan'...hosp...hosp'tal."

"I know. But while we're sitting here, we may as well get to know each other." She wraps the blanket around him more, and circles her arm around his chest, making sure that Fred can get to his head, but its still resting on her knee. "Tell you what James. Can you remember what happened to you? Why don't you tell me how you got into this mess?" James blinks up at her a few times, and then haltingly explains what happened.

 

**********************************************

 

_Hathaway got out of the car at the second dump site. Tasmin Gibson had been 17 when she was murdered, and her body had been left in the woods, not far from the roadside on a remote stretch between Oxford and Bristol. Her body had been discovered by a dog walker, three days after the previous victim's body had been found. The post mortem had shown that both girls had died three days previous, and forensics had come to the conclusion that they were probably killed in the same place. A young man was missing from Bristol, and it was looking increasingly likely that he wouldn't be found alive. James had taken it upon himself to retrace the route, on his way to Bristol, and try and identify any areas in which the young man's body was likely to be found._

 

_While he stood there surveying the scene, and trying to work out if its possible that there was a second body in this area, that had just been missed; a dark coloured car pulled up behind his. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up a little, and he walked closer to his own car, making sure he had easy access to the driver seat. As he watched however, three men got out of the car and started to walk towards him. James was fairly alarmed now; if they'd needed to ask him something like directions, or even for help, it wouldn't take three of them to do it._

_His fear was justified, as he heard one of the men whisper urgently 'Yeah, that's him' and he heard the unmistakeable thump of someone hefting a blunt instrument. Shit James, what have you stumbled into, he thought to himself as they came closer. He attempted to get in his car, uncaring if they knew he was scared. Before he managed it though, one of them was upon him, and dragged him free of the door, shoving him into the clear space of the lay-by._

_"Sergeant Hathaway I presume," The largest looking one said. James could see from the faint moonlight that the man was completely bald, and just behind his left ear, was a tattoo of a wolf fang, which was the main feature of the gang they were investigating. If he was wondering how they knew his name, he didn't have to wait long._

_"Harry sends his regards. He can't make it I'm afraid. See, the boss doesn't like snitches. He doesn't like coppers either. So imagine his delight when he discovers that dear Harry is going to be talking to a copper about him. He wasn't best pleased, was he Sid?" James groaned mentally. They weren't trying to hide their identities, they obviously weren't worried about him being able to point them out at a later date._

_"No John, not pleased at all."_

_"So he sent us to sort it all out for him. And that's just what we're going to do." James tried the first thing he could think of._

_"My boss knows where I am, I'm expected back. Anything happens to me and they'll come and hunt you down so fast you won't know what's hit you."_

_"You don't really believe that do you sergeant? You're in the middle of nowhere and you're at least an hour and a half from your station. You'll have been here for nearly two hours before anyone even gets worried enough to come looking." Before James has a chance to answer, the one of them that hasn't spoken yet, darts forward and shoves him to the ground. A few seconds and they set upon him. Agility means that he dodges the first few blows, but one is landed on his rib and the air is knocked from him. There's a fist in his face, followed in quick succession by a few more, and he knows he's lost the fight. A ring scrapes across his scalp, and he can feel the tickle where blood is oozing slowly out. Knowing that there's no point trying to fight his way out, he gives up and awaits the next blow. Another hit to his ribs, and he closes his eyes; if he's going to die this way, he doesn't want to see it coming. Then as soon as the blows started, they stopped._

_"I think he's copped it."_

_"Dead?"_

_"Yeah. And if he ain't, he won't last long out here will he? Come on, lets split. Its going to snow soon, we don't want to leave tracks for them to follow do we?". James, somewhere on the edge of consciousness, doesn't really pick up on all of this. What he does pick up on, is the lead pipe that's slammed into his tibia. He hears the crunch and pain overwhelms him, dragging him over the edge into oblivion._

 

"Fred. Fred he's out cold."

"Shit, he's getting worse. Right nothing for it Maud love, we'll have to drive him to hospital now, whether he likes it or not." He gently lifts James off Maud's lap, and lays him down on the ground. "Pack that blanket around him tighter. That's it. Now we need to get him in the back seat. Carefully though, too much movement will mess up his heart rhythm."

They get James into the back seat of their car without mishap. Maud almost wishes the young man was awake and moaning in pain. Almost. At least that way, she'd know he was alive. They decide that Maud will sit in the back with him, and that way, they can rest his bad leg on the front passenger seat. It'll be a squeeze, but with a splint on it, they don't have much choice. Besides, one look at Maud told Fred that she wouldn't be able to be calm if she didn't have an easy way of checking on the young man they had brought into their care. He made sure his wife and the young invalid were settled in the back, and then he drove off, as fast as was safe.

 

**********************************************

 

Lewis looked at the screen of his phone, as it vibrated angrily, alerting him to the fact that someone was ringing him. _Laura._ As much as he wanted to carry on organising the search party for James, he couldn't ignore her call.

"Laura." He sighed tiredly.

"Its true isn't it? I've been hearing some rumours about a CID sergeant gone missing. Its-"

"-James. Yeah. Been out of touch for about three and a half hours now."

"That's not like him."

"That's what I said, Innocent as well. We've got officers on his last known route looking for him and-" He looked up as a young constable shouted to him, waving excitedly. "Laura I have to go, looks like something is happening."

"Ok, let me know what happens Robbie."

"I will, I'll keep you posted, promise. Bye Laura" He shut off the call and turned to the young copper.

"What have you got lad?"

"Traffic found Hathaway's car abandoned sir. Bout half an hour from Bristol."

"What have they said?" The youngster swallowed nervously.

"Sergeant Hathaway isn't there sir. The keys are still in the ignition, but he engine wasn't running when they got there"

"And James?" Robbie asked, even though he had a feeling that he knew was coming.

"No sign of him sir. But there's um...some blood at the scene. And an discarded length of pipe a few metres up the road, along with a set of tyre tracks. Forensics are up there taking casts as we speak sir, and our boys are combing the woods to see if Sergeant Hathaway is maybe taking shelter in them."

"Good man" Robbie said roughly. While it was good news that they hadn't found James' body, the idea of the man alone in the woods, and possibly injured, wasn't making him feel better about the situation.

 

**********************************************

 

Hathaway groaned in pain as they went over a speed bump.

"Hello dear, we were starting to get worried about you," Maud said to him as he tried to sit up. "No, no, you need to stay lying down love." She circled his chest again protectively and he quickly relaxed as much as he could.

"Where w'going?"

"Hospital James. We need to get you looked at."

"N-no."

"Enough of that young man. You need help." He coughed and it sent a spasm of pain through his ribs, which in turn set off a coughing fit. Each cough felt like he was being stabbed and there were soon tears in his eyes as he tried not to cry out.

"H-hurts" He managed through pained gasps.

"That's why you need to go to hospital James." He nodded as more coughs wracked his body.

"W-want...pain...t'stop."

"I know. Shhh love, its ok. It'll all be ok." She absently runs her thumb over the back of the confused young man's hand, continuing to murmur comfort to him. "He's still a bit out of it Fred, more like a child than a police officer, poor sod."

"Its ok. We're five minutes from the John Radcliff. We'll get him looked at in no time. "

"He's only a couple of years younger than our Rick, I reckon."

"Maud dear, he'll be ok, they'll sort him out."

"I hope so. I think I may have developed a soft spot for this young man."

 

**********************************************

 

Robbie had been updating Jean on the situation when his phone rang. Although Jean would ordinarily have given him an ear bashing if he'd dared answer it in her office instead of talking to her, she was aware these were special circumstances. She was also aware, that if the caller bared news of his sergeant, she'd have no power at all to stop Robbie taking the call.

"I know where he is Ma'am."

 

Ten minutes later, Jean gathered everyone involved in the search into the office. Once the hubbub had died down, she spoke.

"I have received information concerning Sergeant Hathaway. The John Radcliff just phoned Inspector Lewis to inform him that they have James on their high dependency unit. From what I could gather, he's suffering from moderate hypothermia, as well as fractures to his leg and ribs after what looks to be an assault. They assured Lewis that he should make a full recovery in time." There was a ripple of relief around the room. The officers in CID may find Hathaway to be hard to connect to, aloof, or just a smart-arse; but you'd be hard pressed to find a member that actively disliked him. As always, when one of their own was in trouble, they banded together like nobody else.

"Now that we know James is ok, we need to concentrate our efforts on identifying and arresting the people responsible. That will be easier when Sergeant Hathaway is able to make a statement, but we can make a start by looking for any cars reported stolen that would match the tracks that Forensics uncovered. Thank you for your time and effort, I know some of you should be off duty now." She smiled and the officers went back to what they were doing, calling search parties back to base, and making enquiries into stolen vehicles.

 

**********************************************

 

Lewis hurried to the John Radcliff as fast as he could. James had jokingly metioned that Robbie better be his listed next of kin once, since he spent the most time with him. This was after Lewis had complained about the difficulty in tracing them. He never thought that James would actually follow up on it. For that was what the call had been; the hospital calling him, not in a lawful capacity, but a personal one.

 

Once he reached the HDU front desk he asked after Hathaway as patiently as he could. He'd been told that James wasn't in any particular danger, but he needed to see for himself.

"He's in bed seven Inspector. I think his parents are with him now." _His parents?_ James has never mentioned his parents, and Robbie now knows that he is listed as James' emergency contact. His parents have never shown up before. Not when James was shot at Creavecour. Not when he had arsenic poisoning. Not when James had nearly been burnt alive. Not any other time he had needed them. And as far as he is aware, James never asked for them. So what are they doing here now.

 

He rounds the corner and quickly makes out bed seven, heading over to it. There's an old couple sitting in chairs by James' bedside and if they are Hathaway's parents, they aren't what Robbie is expecting. For a start, they look a lot more homely and kind that Robbie ever thought James' parents were. As he stands there, he's aware he should introduce himself as James' boss. These two people don't know him from the next man.

"Mr and Mrs Hathaway?" he asks uncertainly, and they both look up.

"Gracious me no," The old lady says, smiling slightly. "Maud Richardson. And this is my husband Fred." Fred extends his hand and shakes Robbie's warmly.

"You must be his boss. He was adamant that we get in contact with you. Lucky that the hospital had your number really. He didn't even give us your name. Not that we can blame him in the circumstances." The confusion on Robbie's face must be obvious, because Maud takes his hand in her own and explains.

"We found young James by the side of the road and brought him here." Suddenly, she looks up at him, as if she's just realised something. "You seemed surprised to meet his parents. Are they on their way."

"Urm...N-no. I'm not even sure that they are still living. No love lost there if they are either, from what I can tell"

"Oh the poor lamb," Maud says sadly as she looks over at James. Its now that Robbie has a look as well, and he can't help but exhale softly.

James is lying, still as can be, with a blanket pulled up to his shoulders. His face is a map of bruises and cuts, and the swelling from earlier has become worse since Fred and Maud found him. His right leg is in a cast. The short blond hair is still stained slightly red above his ear, surrounding a shallow but painful looking gash. What worries Robbie most though, more than the injuries and the various medical sensors attached to James' arms and fingers, is the oxygen mask strapped to his face. The lad is supposed to be out of the woods, both literally and metaphorically. Why does he have breathing assistance? As if reading his mind, Fred gently explains.

"His breathing is fine Mr...."

"Lewis....Robbie." he says, chastising himself for not introducing himself like he'd meant to in the first place.

"His breathing is fine Robbie. But he's really cold, so they are giving him warmed air to get his core temperature up. That's what the doctor said anyway." Robbie nodded and lay his hand over James' substantially colder one.

"What happened to you eh kidda? You've had the whole station worried sick." Fred and Maud explain what James had managed to tell him about the incident before he passed out, and Robbie makes a quick call to the station so that the officers can use the information. They could be waiting a little while before James is able to make a statement and Robbie wants the bastards that put his sergeant in hospital caught. When he returns, Fred and Maud are getting up, and gathering their things.

"We really need to be leaving. We didn't want to leave him alone to wake up. But your here for him now."

"Thank you." And Robbie means it with all he has. "There are far to many people that would have just left him. More still that would have done once they found out he was a copper." He struggles a bit with what to say, knowing that really, its James that needs to hear this bit. Knowing equally that he'll never find the right way to tell him, he'll just have to hope James works it out.

"That young man has become a bit like a second son to me over the seven years that we've worked together. If you hadn't helped him, I'd have lost him tonight."

"We couldn't have just left him there. We'd never have forgiven ourselves." Maud scribbles a phone number and an address down on a little bit of paper, and hands it to Robbie. "We'd be really grateful, if you let us know how he gets on. Tell him to get in touch when he's feeling better." Fred rolled his eyes, but the smile showed his irritation was false.

"If that young man isn't careful, she'll have adopted him before the end of the month." Robbie smiles.

"I'll make sure to tell you. Thank you again. I really can't thank you enough."

 

 

**********************************************

 

Four weeks later and James is mostly recovered. His ribs still hurt a little, but its manageable with painkillers. He's given up the plaster cast and crutches in favour of a walking boot, which he's finally got the hang of.

Standing in front of the street door, he turns to Robbie.

"I don't know what to say. They saved my life, what can I say to that?"

"Well, you've said thank you over the phone so many times, I suspect they're beginning to think that's the only word you know. Hello would be a good place to start" Robbie smiles. "Just go in James. Give me a text when you're leaving and I'll come and pick you up. I know you're getting good at that boot thing, but the doctors will you if you walk across the whole of Oxford on it. And they'll kill me for letting you." James grins. The grin is quickly wiped from his face as Robbie reaches out and pushes the doorbell, before wandering back towards his car. _Bastard_ , James mutters under his breath, but he doesn't mean it really. He only just has time to turn around and scowl at his governor, before the door opens.

"James love! You found us ok then?"

"Yeah, Robbie gave me a lift. He's had to go and do some shopping but he says hello."

"Come in lad. Maud, move and let him past" Fred grumbles good naturedly from the hallway. Once James has crossed the threshold, Maud stands back to get a good look at him.

"Let me have a look at that handsome face now its not all covered with bruises eh?" James smiles shyly. He can't remember the last time he was fussed over like this. Although he feels slightly awkward, he also feels loved and for that, he'll put up with the awkwardness.

"I wanted to wait until everything was all healed," he says apologetically, pointing at his booted leg. "But this doesn't come off for a while yet. And I'm back at work next week, so I dont know how much time I'll have free. I doubt Robbie's done any paperwork while I've been off." Fred smiled. Robbie had already told them that he'd saved some of the non urgent documentation to stop James being bored when he returned.

"Oh its great that you're well enough to go back James. I'm so happy for you love. But you mind they don't send you out chasing people with that ruddy great boot on your foot eh?"

"I'll be on desk duties for the next few weeks Maud, no running I promise."

"Well, you just see that you stick to it. If your boss sends you out on raids and whatnot, you tell me, and I'll have words with them." James grinned. He knew full well he'd be kept on desk duties for ages. He'd have to beg Jean to let him do anything more interesting than filing for a bit.

"Yes Mum." He mumbled facetiously, and Maud clipped his playfully around his uncut ear.

"That's enough of your cheek young man." She smiled at him, and then suddenly threw her hands in the air. "Oh goodness me, where are my manners? I should have offered you a drink. Tea James?"

"Yes please Maud. That would be lovely."

 

An hour and a half later, and James was full up on tea and home made Victoria sponge. Robbie had come to get him and they'd both been waylaid by Maud, who seemed intent on giving them all their weekly calories in the form of jam and cream.

 

When it finally became time to leave, Fred had shook Robbie hand and then James'.

"Its good to see you up and about my lad. You gave us a bit of a fright back then."

"I'm sorry. And thank you. I can't begin to know how to repay you. I owe you both my life." Maud had flapped her hands at him then, shooing him towards the door, eyes watery.

"Oh don't you start all that James Hathaway. You don't owe us nothin'. Just you look after yourself y'hear me." She sniffed at him and tried to wipe her eyes subtly. "you both look after each other now alright? That's all the thanks we need." After James and Robbie had promised to keep each other out of trouble and to keep in touch, they finally managed to leave.

 

Once settled in the car, Robbie turned to James.

"I do believe she's adopted you kidda." James chuckled softly.

"I think she's adopted you as well." Then the chuckle turned to a gentle smile. "There are worse things to happen to a man."

"Aye lad, that there are." Robbie said, squeezing Hathaway's shoulder. "Come on, I'll drive you back home and we can sit with a cuppa and that bloody Blues Brothers film you've been on at me to watch."

"Sounds like a plan."


	24. Catsitting

"You'll be a good cat for Laura won't you Monty? Don't cause her any hassle, its good of her to come and look after you like this."

 _Or you could just stay here_ , Monty thinks. He likes this dark haired man, with his old hands and his love of fish and chips. He likes the way that he's allowed onto the sofas and the beds. The other man that used to look after him got very fussy about that. Always mumbling about a 'snark'. Monty had no idea what this human snark was, but it had earned him a lot of irritated mumbling and shooing off piles of papers. But the dark haired man was nice to him, and let Monty sit on the sofa when he was watching TV. And he always stroked him under his chin, which he liked.

There was a very tall man that came by quite often as well. He must have had too much kitten food when he was a baby to get that tall. His hair is blond and he fusses Monty as well. His hands aren't as old as the dark haired man's, but he has funny little lumps on them from use. Monty likes it when he's at the door, because that means that he's going to get yummy food. Sometimes its fish, sometimes its beef and sometimes its chicken, with strange flavours on it. But it always gets there the same. The dark haired man goes to the machine and talks into it. A little while later there's someone at the door with a bag of food that smells delicious. The dark haired man will give him a little bit. If he's lucky he can rub round the tall man's legs, and he gives him food as well.

 

But now the dark haired man is going to abandon him for a whole night. And to make it worse, the tall man is going with him. Monty doesn't know what a 'conference' is, but he doesn't like them if its going to take his dark haired friend away. The dark haired man doesn't like them either, he's done nothing but grumble about it all week. The doorbell rings.

"Hello Laura, come in." _The dark haired man mentioned a Laura earlier, she must be the one who's going to feed me._ The lady walks in and smiles, giving the dark-haired man a peck on the cheek.

"This must be Monty then," she says as she crouches down and offers her hand. He sniffs it tentatively and then rubs his head across the offered hand. He approves of this human. He's still not happy about the dark-haired man leaving him, or the tall one for that matter, but at least he hasn't left him with someone horrible.

"His food is in the cupboard next to the sink, along with his biscuits. If you could feed him tonight, and again tomorrow morning, and change his water, that'd be great. Thanks Laura." There was the beep of a car horn outside and Robbie bent down to scratch under his chin. "That'll be James. See you Laura. Thanks again. See you later Monty." How was he going to cope without that for a whole night. He hoped this Laura was good at chin scratching.

 

****************************************

 

The dark-haired man had been gone for about three hours when Laura fed him. He stalked around her ankles as she changed his water, and jumped up on the breakfast bar when she was mashing up his food.

"Oh no Monty, I know for a fact that Robbie doesn't let you do that." Monty was impressed, she was right. He didn't even hiss as she picked him up and put him back on the floor. "You be patient for a little bit longer."

"Miiiiiaow" He hoped it was pitiful, but she just chuckled.

"Leave off, you're not starving. Look, its all done now. There you go." Monty ran to the food bowl eagerly and lapped up some water, before tucking into his dinner with gusto.

 

****************************************

 

A little while later, Laura was on the sofa watching telly. He leapt up beside her and attempted to climb up on her lap. She gently but firmly pushed him away. _Oh no lady, that's not how you do it. I sit on your lap, and you stroke me._ He tried again, but it didn't work. Instead the lady called Laura sneezed. Monty felt sorry for her. Sneezing wasn't fun, and humans seemed to get it even worse. The tall man had been here once, after he fell in some water and he had been sneezing a lot. In the end, the dark-haired man had forced him to the sofa with a hot water bottle and a blanket and made him stay there. The tall man had looked very sad all wrapped up and shivery. Monty had made sure to cuddle next to him that night. The tall man had been having furballs and he was trying to be quiet. Monty thought that was stupid to be doing it alone, so he miaowed as loud as he could to wake the dark-haired man. He was only a cat after all. Someone needed to look after the tall man and he could only do so much.

"Monty, no" Laura said as he tried once again, to sit on her lap. "You're making me sneeze." Well that was ridiculous, how could he make her sneeze? Offended, he stalked off and went to sleep on the dark-haired man's pillow. If Laura didn't want to talk to him, then so be it. He would just go and be not wanted somewhere comfy.

 

****************************************

 

In the morning, he heard the clink of china and rushed into the kitchen to see Laura putting his food down. He still hadn't forgiven her for ignoring him last night, but she was feeding him, so she obviously didn't hate him too much.

Once he'd eaten, Laura threw a ping pong ball around for him. He warmed to her a bit, since she was clearly making the effort and she did look a little bit ill. He took pity on her and walked away after a few minutes.

 

After what seemed like years, he heard a key in the door. Monty bounded down the hallway in excitement. When the door opened, he craned his neck and miaowed happily. The dark haired man! He was back! He rubbed himself all around the dark-haired mans ankles and purred as loudly as he possibly could.

"Hey there little fella" And there it was, that patent chin scratch that he loved so much. "You missed me then."

"Robbie?"

"Oh sorry James. Come on Monty, budge up and let James in." Monty purred louder still as he walked up the hallway a little. And the tall one? Both of them. I wonder if the tall one is staying tonight. The dark-haired man started talking to Laura.

"Laura you look terrible. What's wrong?"

"I'm allergic to cats."

"Oh blimey I didn't know, why didn't you say something?" _Because she wanted to do something nice for you...sometimes, you humans are stupid._ Laura confirmed that and the dark-haired man hugged her. Monty revised his opinion of Laura then, she was a nice lady. And she would help him take care of his dark-haired man. And the tall one.

 

****************************************

 

Later that night, the tall one was lying on the sofa. Monty miaowed softly at him and he budged over to make some room.

"Come on then Mont'. Up you come." Having gained the permission, (although he observed that the tall one never actually said no), he curled up in a little ball by the tall ones knees. He felt a hand gently scratching his back and he chirped happily. Shortly after this, the hand went lax and he heard the gentle snuffles that told him that the tall one had fallen asleep. He stayed there for a little bit; the tall one occasionally whimpered in his sleep, and Monty liked to nuzzle him when he did that, sometimes it made him calm again. He wonders if the tall one has anyone to nuzzle him when he doesn't sleep on the dark-haired man's sofa. He hopes so, he doesn't like to think the tall one is all alone at night when he gets scared.

 

Tonight though, the tall one must be having nice dreams because he's breathing calmly and there's a tiny smile on his face. Sure now that one of his favourite humans is happy, he jumps down from the sofa and trots into the dark-haired ones bedroom.

 

Once he gets there, he curls up against his owner's back, and stretches, before purring deeply and falling asleep.

 

 


	25. Glimpse Of The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a scene from 'Music To Die For' Waarning of mentions of suicide.

He's busy talking to Anna Kreel's daughter and so he's not aware at first, what James is doing. But when he looks up, its like someone has punched him in the gut.  
  
His mind's eye conjures up a picture of a young man, stood atop of a church tower, priestly robes discarded on the floor beside him. He's holding onto the battlements and looking down. Robbie doesn't need to see his face to know that. He knows, instinctively that this is not the first time that James has stood on high, looking for all the world like he's going to jump and Lewis can't shake the feeling, that he has just glimpsed the past.  
  
He doesn't give into his instincts and pull James back from the balcony, the lad isn't even close to the edge. He continues talking to the girl, calmly and coolly, although he has no idea why no body else can hear his voice shaking.  
  
He watches James carefully for the next few days, convinced in his heart that he's going to get a terrible phone call in the middle of the night, one of the crime scenes he dreads most.  
  
And although that day doesn't show up in the days, weeks, months following the case, he can never quite get over the feeling that James is only a temporary fixture on this earth and that one day, he might just be gone.  
  
It scares the living daylights out of him.


	26. Not Your Fault

Robbie's heart sinks as he spots the familiar shape, sprawled on the bench. He can see the bottle glinting in the moonlight, and he's under no illusions as to how Hathaway has spent the last two hours. He sighs, and heads over to the sergeant, sitting down next to him. James doesn't react at all, save to clumsily try and move the bottle out of Lewis' line of sight. It doesn't work, James is too far gone to have good enough coordination, and in any case, Lewis had been sat next to him for a few minutes before James had even attempted to move. When James doesn't start the conversation, Lewis takes it upon himself to try and engage his friend.

"That's not going to solve your problems you know?”

"It will, if your pro'lems are sobriety." Lewis shakes his head. The lad's normally clear diction is slurring. He doesn't like seeing James' self-destructive streak. It always means that bad things are on the horizon

"James kidda, the answer isn't at the bottom of a bottle."

"No it isn't." The younger man goes silent, and Lewis fears that that's all he's going to say. But then James continues;

"Bu' if you forget the queshun, then the answer don't matter." A bitter snort accompanies the statement and Robbie's heart aches for the insecure young man sat next to him.

"And have you forgotten the question?" James stares blankly, before hanging his head, tears in his eyes.

"No" he says quietly. He sets the bottle down, empty now and looks ahead, trying to keep the emotion off his face. Lewis knows where this is going. Ted Temple's wife. She'd died three hours after they'd walked out of that basement. He'd made sure to tell Hathaway himself. He'd thought the lad had taken it well. But then he'd called James a little later, to tell him to take tomorrow off, and not got a reply. He'd found him sat in the local park, drinking a bottle of wine on his own. It seems James had just put up a front, until he knew he'd be alone. James speaks, voice breaking.

"Why couldn't I stop 'er?"

“You tried. You did a good job James.”

“But I didn't though? I wasn't quick 'nough, and now she's dead. 'Cause of me.” Lewis knows that at least some of this is the wine talking. But equally, he knows that even sober, James would blame himself.

“No Jim. She's dead, because she shot herself. Its not your fault lad. You did your best, but it all happened too fast.”

“Sir...”

“Tell me something James...do you blame the doctors?”

“Sir?”

“-The doctors at the hospital Jim, they couldn't save her. Do you blame them?”

“N-No I don't.”

“Then why do you blame yourself kidda?”

“I jus'...I jus' do.” James slurs, hanging his head. Robbie relents a little. Its not fair to try and make him explain himself when he's drunk like this.

“Come on son, I'll drive you back to mine. We'll get some soup into you and you can get some sleep.” James nods and lets himself be led to Lewis' car.

 

**********************************************************

 

He cooks up some soup and gets James settled on the sofa. The younger man doesn't react too much to any of of this, but Lewis thinks its because of the alcohol rather than any specific brooding.

“Night lad. Try and rest a bit okay?” James nods and mumbles quietly.

“Night sir.” Robbie squeezes his shoulder, and leaves for his own bedroom. He's careful to leave both his bedroom door and the living room door open so he can hear if James is in distress during the night.

He sleeps soundly, and the alcohol James has consumed, while not being particularly healthy, at least means that the younger man sleeps straight though the night. Even if he does wake up with a pounding headache.

 

In time, James will come to terms with what has happened in his own way, but until then, all Robbie can do it makes sure the younger man has his support. He doesn't imagine James will ever open up to him any more than he has, but its important that James at least knows that he can.


	27. Kansas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, this is the last of the pre-written snippets, so updates will be dependent on my ability to think of ideas, and probably much more sporadic. 
> 
> This little snippet relates to Life Born Of Fire

Sometimes, music has a way of really hitting home.

Robbie Lewis considers this as he sits on his sofa with a beer and a bag of chips. The radio is on, something mindless playing in the background. He sits there, picking at the chips, that are already going cold, thinking.

There's something wrong with James. Something about this case. Lewis can't get a handle on it, not yet. It goes beyond the fact he knew the victim. Robbie had to admit that he was taken aback when James pretty much sprinted out of the church. True, James doesn't like dead bodies, he's seen the lad's face when they speak to Laura sometimes. But still, James has never reacted that badly before.

 

Of course, it'd then come out that he knew Will McEwan.

 

Robbie frowns, he knows he should take James off of the case, despite what the young man says. But he can't bring himself to do it, because he knows that James will see it as a lack of trust. And truth be told, he'd feel better about this whole mess, if he can keep an eye on his sergeant. Which is a lot easier if the man is in the office with him. What ever is going on, Robbie hopes that James will explain soon.

And there _is_ something going on. Standing outside the reverend King's house, Lewis knew there was something wrong. For a start, Hathaway was drinking one of those energy drinks. It normally coffee. Or a cigarette. Lewis has never seen him drinking energy drinks before.

 

Then later, when they went to the pub and Hathaway offered to look for Feardocha's number. He couldn't pretend that he hadn't seen James knock that scotch back. He'd been surprised enough when James had ordered it. Lewis suspects that it wasn't James' first drink of the day.

 

Hathaway's behaviour, reminds him of Ken, when he went through his rebellious teenage stage. Drinking too much, out late. He doesn't reckon that James was much of a rebellious teen. He's probably catching up on it now, albeit a bit late. Stupid lad, knocking back drinks at all hours. Drinking on duty even!

He just hopes that James gets it out of his system soon. Whatever it is. He could ask of course, but he knows that could go one of two ways. Either, Hathaway will fob him of and insist that he's fine, or James will sock him one. Lewis is in no hurry to find out how good James' hay-maker is.

No, whatever is wrong, James will have to get over it himself. He just hope it doesn't affect the lad's work, he may be able to turn a blind eye, but Innocent won't.

Robbie gets up to heat up one of the 'pierce and ping's' he has in the fridge. He realises that he knows the song that's playing now. He sings along, he can't help it, its just one of those songs and sod it, there's no one there to hear him.

Its only during the chorus at the end, that the lyrics of the song really hit him. Square in the face.

 

_Carry on my wayward son._

_There'll be peace when you are done._

 

He does see James as a son doesn't he? He didn't really notice before, the feeling's crept up on him. But he has hated watching the man this past week. Hated watching him seemingly fall apart, hated the knowledge that the kid is less than happy.

James comes across as a youngster, and its nothing to do with the fact that Lewis is twenty-seven years his senior. He has a vulnerability that cuts Lewis to the quick, brings out his protective instincts.

 

_Lay your weary head to rest._

_Don't you cry no more._

 

He'd never have guessed that Hathaway would nearly be granted eternal rest a few nights later.

He'd never have guessed that he'd have to turn to the lyrics of a rock ballad for help, when James turns up at his house the night after he gets out of hospital, shaking and on the verge of tears.

The song makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up every time he hears it for a good few years afterwards.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Lewis is listening to is Carry On My Wayward Son, by Kansas. Which can be found here on youtube here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2X_2IdybTV0


	28. Praise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My attempt at a double drabble (200 words) based around a scene in Old School Ties.

“ _He's a good lad, your sergeant”_

“ _I know. I haven't read your book, so you'll need to tell me who might like to kill ye.”_

 

James blinked, stealing a glance at his inspector. There was nothing in the older man's expression that betrayed anything. Nothing to betray that he had any idea how much those simple words had meant to James. No idea of the confidence boost he'd just bestowed upon the young sergeant. Confidence James'd never admit was needed.

 

James wanted to say thank you. But he didn't think Lewis would know what his gratitude was for.

 

* * *

 

Robbie had felt, rather than seen that James looking at him when he'd confirmed Turnbull's statement. He made another mental note to add to the list of Things That He Knows About James Hathaway. The lad needs to be told that he's doing well. It seems obvious to Lewis, that what he had thought was just a throwaway comment, had been a revelation to his new sergeant. Must remember to let James know that he's appreciated.

 

It was worrying really, the fact James was surprised to be praised.

 

Well they'd just have to see what they could to fix that.

 


	29. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set a week or so after Life Born Of Fire

 

He doesn't sleep well after the Phoenix case. He doesn't deal well with the silence of the small hours at all.

 

Sometimes, if James listens really hard, he can hear the flames crackling again, can hear Lewis' worried shout. He can see himself fighting against Lewis' grip, trying to run back into the house. That's what scares him most, the knowledge that, had it not been for Robbie Lewis, he'd have died trying to save his would-be murderer. Although technically, he'd have been dead already, because without Lewis turning up, he'd never have made it out of the house.

 

If his flat is quiet, and his mind is in the right (or wrong) kind of place, he can hear Zoe talking. He can hear the words she said to him, the words she thought would be the last thing he would hear. The accusations stab at him, and sorrow fills him at her story, just as it had when the event had been occurring. The Firebird Suite will be there, a backdrop to the memories, and he knows then, that sleep is fruitless.

 

After one too many all nighters, maybe the second or third in a row, Lewis takes him aside, buys him a coffee, and tells him in the kind way that he has, that he looks like shit. And James doesn't know whether its the lack of sleep, the caffeine he's probably overdosed on, or just the concerned look in his mentor's eyes. But it all comes pouring out. Lewis doesn't suggest counselling, because he knows James too well. Just an invitation to kip in his spare room, and a reminder that James can talk to him, and should, if he needs to.

 

Two weeks later, he's staying overnight at Lewis' again. Its been a tough case, and James just _knows_ that he's not going to sleep tonight. He tries anyway, for Lewis' sake, because he knows the older man will stay up to keep him company if he suspects James isn't going to sleep. He goes through the charade of changing into pyjamas, brushing his teeth and settling into the spare bed. He bids his mentor goodnight, flicks off the light, and waits for the sounds to worm their way into the silence.

 

He must have managed to sleep for a while, because he wakes up in tears, with the remnants of a fiery dream still present in the back of his mind

 

The light flicks on, and Lewis shuffles in, blinking in the lamplight.

“James? Y'right lad?”

“Y-Yeah. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up.”

“It's fine.” A pause, and then Robbie hands him a box, wrapped in paper, that James hadn't even noticed Robbie was holding..

“Sir?”

“It was gonna be for your birthday, but...well seems like you could do with it now kidda.” James just looks at him confused, before hesitantly taking the box, and unwrapping it.

The box proclaims that its a pillow speaker. James wishes he wasn't so knackered, so he could properly understand what that means. Luckily, Robbie takes pity on him.

“You plug that little wire there, into your i-whatsit, choose what you want to listen to, and stick the whole thing into your pillowcase. It acts like a speaker, without you needing to sleep with headphones. And I thought, its portable. For when you sleep here. Or anywhere”

“I...thank you.” It occurs to James that his birthday isn't for another three months. Robbie had really thought about what to get him, and got it ready in plenty of time.

“No problem.” He coughs. “I just thought, it'd keep the silence at bay, lad” There's a lump in James' throat, and its nothing to do with memories of smoke and fire.

“Thank you. This is...I think this will be perfect.”

“Ah well, I'll leave you to test it out kidda. Sleep well James.”

“Good night Robbie, thanks again.” Robbie waves a hand in acknowledgement and shuffles back to his room.

He sets the speaker up; the box says that there are no batteries included, but Robbie has clearly thought of that, as the little on light blinks blue straight away.

James selects some instrumental music, that he often uses to calm himself after a hard day. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep at all, and even though he doesn't know it at the time, he sleeps through the night.

 

When Robbie comes down in the morning, he smiles at the sight. James is fast asleep, curled into an impossibly ball. He'll leave the lad to sleep for now. Robbie has seen the state he's been in these last weeks, and it'll do the boy good to get some proper rest.

 

Robbie doesn't think for a minute that his gift will solve all of James' problems, the man really should be talking to someone professional.

But he hopes that at least now, James will be able to get some rest.

 


End file.
